


Unquestionable Love: The Prequel

by CRMediaGal



Series: Unquestionable Love [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRMediaGal/pseuds/CRMediaGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginnings of an unconventional relationship between a professor and his student are tested by war, secrets, prejudice, and perseverance. Epic novel with angst, drama, and blossoming romance. Prequel to Unquestionable Love. HBP to Post-Hogwarts era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N : Hello, everyone. _Unquestionable Love_ is back (for those familiar with this series)! :)**
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> **Although I would recommend reading the original _Unquestionable Love_ before reading _The Prequel_ , which is a lengthy tale that will span the beginnings of Severus's and Hermione's relationship in this series (from mutual dislike to friendship to love), you can also read _The Prequel_ first, if you'd prefer to. Some readers have told me they enjoyed reading the series in order better, so, as the reader, it's completely up to you where you'd prefer to start! (This series is available in its entirety on FFN, too.)**
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> **A few important notes: I will be faithful to the timeline of the last two books in some respects and differ from them greatly in other ways. You'll get a better idea of that as things progress, but something worth noting. Nothing sexual will happen until Hermione is eighteen.**
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> **Expect: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, some Fluff and, later, much-needed Smut. There will be sexual and violent content.**
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> **This is an epically long story, seventy chapters in all, and I hope you enjoy the ride! _Special thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny, for all her immeasurable help._**
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> **Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 1: Uncertain Changes**

Hermione Granger fumed as she stomped out of the Great Hall and made her way towards the dungeons, well ahead of her two closest friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She didn't want to be within earshot once Ron started on about that irritable, flaky Lavender Brown. _Again_. Every word Ron uttered about that petty, popular, boisterous new girlfriend of his seemed to make its way to Hermione eventually, even if she wasn't around to listen to the foul git routinely sing her praises. She knew it was all meant to spite _her_ and hurt her even more.

They had only been dating about a week—Ron and Lavender, that is—but to hear of it stung the sixteen-year-old Hermione, nevertheless. The wound was still fresh, the image of that blasted kiss playing on repeat in her mind. After years of bantering, colorful arguments, and, only in the past year or so, innocent flirtations, Ron had left her shell-shocked and devastated. How could he not know of her feelings by now? Hadn't he felt the same about her? Or had she imagined all the times he smiled peculiarly at her, eyed her with a certain warmth, or paid her a rare, endearing compliment? How could the stupid prat not see what was right in front of his freckled face?

_Of course he can't see, Hermione!_ she reflected bitterly, huffing as she quickened her pace and lowered her face so as to not meet anyone's eyes. _He doesn't want you! He never wanted you! Why would Ron even look twice at you when there's_ her _?_

Hermione whisked a few curls away from her face, not at all mindful of just how fast she was walking or of the people she was passing without a word, some of whom she knew. She ignored them. Her eyes—a warm, rich caramel, bright and flickering—dampened the further she strode. She quickly wiped at the tears threatening to fall. She wouldn't cry over him. He didn't deserve it. But then why was she so hurt?

_It'll pass, Hermione! For Merlin's sake, just let it go!_

As she reached the dungeons at last and entered the frigid Potions laboratory, not nearly as gloomy looking as it had been for the first five years of her schooling when the subject was taught by a very different professor, a realization befell the clever witch. She still had a good fifteen minutes to spare before class started, and she was the only student here. Even Professor Slughorn wasn't mucking about yet, and Ron and Harry wouldn't be along for several more minutes. The last thing the emotionally wrought girl wanted was for Ron to receive any satisfaction from seeing her tears. He'd know it was over him, and that was more than Hermione could bear.

_The girl's loo. Go and get yourself under some level of control!_

Hermione turned on her heel and dashed out of the room. She found the bathroom with ease and stumbled into its dimly lit lair before dropping her textbooks on the floor in a heap. She didn't even make it to the sinks or to a mirror to survey her distraught reflection. She simply stood in the middle of the entryway and lost her composure, her shoulders hunched, her chest heaving uncontrollably as she cried over the redheaded boy she had known for six years and thought she had grown to love.

_This is ridiculous!_ the rational part of her brain berated, but her heart wouldn't listen. _It was just a crush, Hermione! Get over it! It would never have worked out anyway. You never had a chance against someone like her! And since when have looks ever mattered to you? You're above and beyond this, Hermione Granger!_

But none of it did any good. All she could manage over the next five minutes was to let it all pour out of her and wipe at the countless tears with her sleeve. After several minutes, the weeping gradually subsided, until it was nothing but soft snivels and hitched breaths.

Hermione walked over to one of the sinks, ignoring her disorganized books for once, something she _never_ did. She peered up at her reflection in the mirror with a look of utter self-loathing.

For all intents and purposes, Hermione had never been a 'pretty girl.' Her chestnut curls were unnaturally wild and untamed, falling to the middle of her back in what had once been tangled knots. Her teeth had long been too large for her face, and her body, well, she had never taken much pride in that either. She was teased for being too skinny, for having pathetic excuses for breasts, and for not being 'girly' enough, whatever that meant. _I might as well have had the body of a young boy_ , she thought, snorting out loud.

This year, however, gradual changes were emerging, most of which Hermione hadn't really taken much notice of; at least, in some respects. She certainly gave more attention to her hair these days; it was the main attribute that use to bring her relentless ridicule from some of the prettier girls in Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. She never used magic to tame it, but now, at least, she could make her spirals softer and less frizzy. Still thick and somewhat wild, they were no longer unruly or entangled. She had never worn much makeup, but now attempted to wear _something_ on her face, such as a little lip gloss, or perhaps some foundation or blush if she felt the urge; however, she often stuck to the minimal. She saw little use in cosmetics and determined long ago that it mostly looked unnatural, especially on her.

_Therein lies the problem..._

Hermione hadn't paid attention to her blossoming figure that was starting to show clear signs of a young woman. She would be eighteen next year after all and enter her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her maturity was starting to show. The contours of her body formed attractive curves at her shoulders, back, hips, and thighs. She certainly didn't look like 'one of the boys' anymore, and she counted that amongst the few blessings she possessed. Had anyone even noticed?

_Am I_ that _unattractive?_

Hermione frowned at the reflection in the mirror and scrunched up her nose, clearly displeased with the young Gryffindor that stared back at her. It was a rather emotionless stare and devoid of much feeling, only showing silent criticism. The tears had dried, and though her cheeks were still a bit flushed, no signs of lost composure remained.

Hermione sighed and spun around, turning away from the ghastly mirror at last. She gathered up her books from the ground and made her way back to the Potions lab, more resolute than ever.

As she strolled into the room, Ron and Harry were already throwing their supplies down. Hermione diverted her eyes from both of them. She was still on speaking terms with Harry, but refused to address Ron. She wasn't ready, and just the sound of his voice set her on edge. Normally, the three of them sat together, but today she had hoped to switch seats with someone else. She scanned the room but was out of luck. Most of her classmates were already situated in their usual spots. Groaning, she hesitantly sat down at their station in the far corner, well away from Ron, and resigned herself not to making eye contact.

Harry was the most visibly uncomfortable of the three. _His mates were just mad at each other_ , he concluded at the beginning of the week, and needed to move past the awkwardness. Until then, he wasn't involving himself in their fight. They were both his friends. End of story.

Hermione relaxed a little once Slughorn set them to work on an elixir from their textbook, _Advanced Potion-Making_. Harry's version was unlike anyone else's, and when he drew it out of his bag and set it on the table next to Hermione, she cringed. She had been telling him to hand that book in for months, but her friend stubbornly refused.

Hermione had scanned the contents briefly when Harry wasn't looking. Elegant cursive appeared next to the margins on every single page, and she couldn't help but sense that she somehow recognized the writing; perhaps her mind was just playing tricks on her. Virtually the entire book was crossed out and written over, differing from the typed instructions to the potions they were attempting in class. There were even some spells written out by hand that Hermione had never heard of before, and they didn't sound at all pleasant. Most seemed questionable based on their descriptions alone and were probably unsuitable for teaching purposes.

Whatever the book was, Hermione concluded that it wasn't worthwhile material. Harry had literally cheated his way to the top of the class, a feat that unnerved her more than she'd ever admit to him. But more than that, she didn't trust whoever this 'Half-Blood Prince' was. He had claimed the book as his own, but she and her friends had no idea who he was, and could find no references to him anywhere.

Hermione had affirmed from her earliest days as a witch to always follow her textbooks. It was protocol, absolute, and the very best way to learn. Yet this Half-Blood Prince had written his own version of their entire textbook, and it was now in her friend's greedy hands. The fact that the book was never discarded and had managed to worm its way into Harry's possession was additionally unsettling. Harry and Ron disagreed.

"Of course they would!" she snarled under her breath, not realizing that Harry had picked up on her tone.

"You all right, 'Mione?" he whispered, while Ron was busy chatting to Neville. Neville was the fourth person at their table, and undoubtedly the most pitiful Potions student there ever was. Their former Potions instructor had attested to it enough over the years that it was now permanently engrained in everyone's minds.

"Fine, Harry," Hermione sniped. "Couldn't be better!"

Harry leaned back and eyed her over apprehensively. "No, you're not." He lowered his voice so Ron wouldn't overhear. "It's just a phase, 'Mione."

"I could care less who Ron's dating, Harry, _honestly!_ "

"Erm, all right..." He quickly dropped the subject, but that didn't mean Hermione was through speaking.

"When are you going to turn that ruddy book in?"

"Not again, 'Mione." Harry turned away to chop a few ingredients, purposely avoiding her cold stare.

"Harry, it's _wrong!_ You're going to get caught—"

"There's more to this book than that, and you know it. Whoever this Half-Blood Prince is, I'm intrigued, all right? I can't help myself. We _need_ to find out who he is."

"We've looked everywhere, Harry. I'm out of ideas, and so are you. Time to turn it in."

"Hell no! And we haven't looked everywhere, 'Mione. I know you haven't exhausted all your resources yet, so don't start. You're still just as curious as I am."

"Don't you find it odd that this book just happened to slip right into your hands?"

"It's not _that_ peculiar, 'Mione," Harry stated calmly, having fought her on this point repeatedly for the past several months. "It was the last text available. Now it's mine, and _I'm not turning it in_."

Hermione lapsed back into silence, heaving her shoulders in defeat. She had been mechanically stirring her cauldron for some time now, without any regard to what she was doing. She blinked hard and tried to refocus her attention as Professor Horace Slughorn, a very heavyset man with a round, wrinkled face, drew closer to inspect their progress. His criticism could be firm at times, but he was a far cry from their previous Potions professor, and much friendlier at that—an absolute peach in comparison.

"Miss Granger?" Slughorn asked in puzzlement, as he stared down at her questionable work.

"Oh! Sorry sir," she replied, making note of her silly error. "I - I'm a bit distracted today."

That got Ron's attention. He stared over at her with a less than friendly regard.

"I would imagine, my dear. You forgot three valerian roots. You need fourteen altogether."

"I'll start again."

Hermione hurriedly extinguished the fire beneath her cauldron with her wand and proceeded to empty the contents, clean her cauldron, and begin brewing the elixir again, while Slughorn meandered away to another table. She knew her teacher's befuddlement was justified. Despite Harry's knack for cheating, Hermione was still his brightest student, and not surprisingly so.

"You got off easy," Neville snickered, as he stirred his potion with his stirring rod. Hermione could see the contents were turning green, which was not a promising sign. "If Snape were here, you'd be ridiculed till the end of class."

"Oh, I'm sure I would," she grumbled back, not looking up from her cauldron.

"The greasy git," Ron snorted, not really wanting to enter any conversation that included Hermione, but unable to help himself. Snape was a frequent topic of conversation in Gryffindor House, and particularly in their circle. Harry and Neville willingly joined in.

"I feel like I'm actually learning for a change," said Harry with a twinge of bitterness in his mocking tone. "At least Slughorn's _instructive_ and doesn't just degrade everyone."

Ron nodded. "Why do you suppose Snape wasn't in class yesterday? The bat never misses class. He's been wanting to teach D.A.D.A. for ages. You'd think he'd _never_ miss the opportunity to demonstrate a hex on the Gryffindors when the opportunity presents itself!"

"Probably running off to converse with his old war buddies," Harry offered back with a clenched jaw.

Hermione piped up very quietly from her spot in the corner, "Harry, you don't know that."

Everyone paused what they were doing and glanced over at her in surprise. Even Neville seemed relatively shocked by her remark.

"He was a Death Eater, 'Mione," Harry shot back rather prickly, making Hermione stir the contents of her cauldron faster, "and regardless of what Dumbledore believes, he's _still_ a Death Eater! Just look at him! I don't trust him at all, and I never will. You shouldn't either."

"I never said I trusted him, Harry, and, as a matter of fact, _I don't_. Not entirely anyway, but I don't mistrust him as much as you. I don't think anyone does. I know he's a miserable louse and treats you badly, but he _did_ save your life, remember? You two have never gotten along—"

"That's because Snape never took a liking to Harry from the beginning," Ron interjected, raising his voice at her. "He was never even given the chance! Snape hates everyone but those in his own house, and he's a bastard of a teacher! He doesn't teach us, he just gripes and insults us every chance he gets. Even _you're_ doing better in Potions now that Snape's not teaching the subject, 'Mione. Admit it!"

"That's not the point, Ron!" Hermione reacted less collectedly than she wanted and threw down her stirring rod, narrowing her eyes. "I think you both sound completely deranged for claiming that Snape's a less than qualified teacher! If either of you had paid any attention in Potions the past five years, you might have learned a thing or two from the man and gotten better marks!"

"Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen," Ron grumbled irritably, egging her on.

"Snape may very well be a bastard, Ron, and I don't like him either, but he's brilliant at the subject, and you both sound like idiots for constantly trying to belittle an instructor who's far more skilled at it than any of us will ever be. Let it go!"

_How had they even gotten on to this topic of conversation? Arguing over Snape, of all people, and Hermione defending him? What the bloody hell?_

The troubling thought seemed to cross everyone's mind at the same time, and the four of them quickly returned to their individual cauldrons, not wanting to bring up the wizard in question again. Having a regular class with that dark, snarky man was unnerving enough. Discussing him further, outside of the subject, felt like a ridiculous waste of time to them all.

When class was dismissed, Hermione still wasn't feeling any better. In fact, if anything, she felt worse. She was worn out from the private crying spell she'd had, and even managed to get into another heated argument with her friends. And over Professor Snape, at that.

_Ugh! Of all the topics to have an argument about! Good grief!_

Harry, Ron and Neville recommenced their conversation about the unpopular Slytherin once class was over, taking bets over why he was absent the previous day; Hermione pressed ahead, not wanting to linger and listen anymore. She may not have liked the professor much, but even she wasn't willing to stoop so low and call him a dunce.

Anyone who was anyone at Hogwarts knew just how skilled Severus Snape was, no matter how universally disliked he may be amongst the students and staff. The wizard was a genius at Potions, there was no mistaking that, and proved equally brilliant as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Hermione and her friends had been on the receiving end of the wizard's magic on more than one occasion, and the result was terrifying.

Severus Snape had, without a doubt, the quickest reflexes Hermione had ever seen and, though Ron and Harry might willfully challenge him to a duel out of pure spite, Hermione wasn't that thick. Not even Neville, who received some of the most brutal verbal instruction under Snape's teaching tactics, would dare attempt such a crazy idea. No one wanted to challenge Severus Snape. If they were dense enough to try, they'd wind up as an inanimate object...or dead.

Hermione remained in a foul mood the rest of the afternoon and went to bed earlier than usual that night, not lounging or doing her homework in the Gryffindor common room as she normally would have done. Ron and Lavender would be there anyhow, and those were the very _last_ two individuals she cared to encounter.

Hermione curled up underneath her covers and cried noiselessly into her pillow, berating herself yet again for sobbing like a pathetic tart over something so trivial. Ron wasn't hers and, as his recent actions proved, he had never really had an interest in her in the first place. Not in the bushy-haired, buck-toothed 'know-it-all' who could hardly be considered the equivalent of sexiness...

Tomorrow, she and her friends had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape and, secretly, Hermione hoped their wicked instructor would be present, just so she might chance the man demonstrating a curse or two on the ginger that was causing her so much pain. At the least, she could get some satisfaction out of seeing Ron blasted against the wall or flipped upside down. As the devilish image danced in her head, a faint smile drew across Hermione's mouth, and she drifted off to sleep with a purring Crookshanks at her side.

* * *

Master Severus Snape, the man so many feared and loathed unequivocally, stumbled along the shadowed corridors, every so often gripping the cold, stone walls for balance. He had no idea what time it was, but he suspected the Headmaster would still be up and about, or, at the very least, sense his approach.

Severus was a prideful man, but tonight he could barely walk straight, let alone draw his shoulders back or keep his head held high. He hitched several painful breaths but kept going, catching view of the unsightly gargoyle at the end of the hallway as he rounded the corner; it was the entrance to the Headmaster's office. _Albus Dumbledore_.

"Damn him!" the dark wizard cursed like a snake under his breath. "Damn the man!"

Severus advanced down the passageway, his billowing black robes rippling softly along the floor. Everything about him was somber, reserved, unyielding, and intimidatingly strong, and yet, tonight he was obviously in some measure of pain. With the chilly November night on his side and no students or staff members mucking about, Severus could let down his guard, if only a little, before convening with Dumbledore.

It had been another night of 'torture and be tortured.' One night had poured into the next for the last several months. This winter evening hadn't been as excruciating as the past two nights, which had left Severus entirely unfit to teach, without all his obnoxious students ogling at him like a fish. He never missed a day of instruction, but he simply couldn't take the risk after the sheer amount of agony he had endured from the Dark Lord.

By now, however, it was relatively all the same. Severus endured torment, as he had virtually all his life, and took it with a grain of salt. Pain was his company; his constant companion. He hardly questioned when it would end anymore, for it never had since he was a child. One terrible misfortune led to another, stringing together the tattered contents of a most unhappy life that left Severus Snape bitter, and with a very sour taste in his mouth.

Severus clutched his left arm as he halted before the gargoyle. Why the old man wouldn't let him pass without uttering the password tonight was more unnerving to him than usual, inflaming his already angry temper. He drew up straight, wincing from the lingering trembles resulting from the curses he received several times that night, and held his head so that his long locks—straggly, black and less greasy than usual—could no longer conceal his pale face.

"Pineapple strudel," he muttered under his breath, and the gargoyle made of stone sprouted to life and stepped aside. A staircase presented itself, and Severus made his way up the steps as swift and silent as a panther, his personal injuries no longer perceivable.

When he saw Dumbledore's closed door, he let out an exasperated hiss. Even though Severus himself could sense that the aged wizard knew he was coming, the man still had the audacity to make him wait.

_After everything I've done, open the bloody door!_

Severus was clearly in no mood to play these trivial games that his Headmaster, he suspected, rather enjoyed. He was tired, irritated, and in a great deal of pain.

He sighed wearily and knocked on the door, waiting to be let in like a whimpering dog with his tail between his legs. Severus cursed for allowing himself to be degraded to such a lowly level of existence, something he lamented quite often when he was alone.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's alert voice within.

Wasting no time, Severus burst into the circular room, displaying his usual mask that camouflaged the man underneath. The hard, severe outlines of his face could make even the jolliest person cower in fear and those eyes... Black, and, unlike in most cases, they were _not_ 'the window to a man's soul.' They were so far gone and devoid of emotion most of the time, his feelings shrunk and beaten and sucked away, as if by a vacuum. His demeanor was always frigid and unpardonable to those unfortunate enough to cross his path, and tonight was no exception as he glared solemnly at the Headmaster, the man who seemed to forever hold Severus's puppet strings in the palm of his hands.

In contrast, Professor Dumbledore was Severus's opposite in every manner of speaking. There were the more obvious physical differences: the long, silver beard that fell below his waist; the whimsical robes he wore, such as tonight's crimson-red and matching hat that towered several feet in the air; and the moon-shaped spectacles at the bridge of his crooked nose that, behind their glass, featured a pair of bright blue eyes. He was ethereal when he moved, tall and thin in stature but slightly shorter than Severus, and, at present, he was standing in the middle of his office and stroking his phoenix, Fawkes, seated on a high perch next to his desk.

"Severus," he offered pleasantly, chancing a peculiar glance at the dark wizard; Severus was standing at a considerable distance with his hands latched behind his back.

"Albus."

"I trust I don't need to inquire where you have been this evening."

Severus became informal, showcasing a glimpse of the closeness and long-standing relationship the two shared. "No, Albus."

"Very well then."

Dumbledore finished brushing Fawkes' chest. The illustrious bird let out a satisfied squawk and ruffled its feathers as a form of thanking its master. Dumbledore gave Severus his full attention, not at all unsettled by the man in black's piercing glare. Instead, he smiled almost mischievously.

"You are hurt."

A flicker of something strange passed through Severus's eyes, before he recovered, a muscle in his jaw protruding at the old wizard's discovery. "It's nothing."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head slowly, still eying the professor up and down. His blue eyes narrowed and his mouth remained slightly curled. "What news do you bring?"

"Nothing particularly of importance. Matters you already know. The Dark Lord's forces are moving. They have already secured the help of more giants, and it won't be long before the Dark Lord employs other creatures to his side. He wouldn't elaborate on his plans this evening. Tonight was another more _casual_ affair."

Severus' elongated fingers unconsciously withdrew and coiled, but he quickly drew them into fists at his back, determined not to let them shake. It was difficult for anything to pass by Dumbledore's notice, but if he had witnessed the slight shift in Severus's arms, the old man chose not to acknowledge it.

"Then you did not get any more information yet on Voldemort's plans?"

Severus instantly flinched at the name, but another person wouldn't have picked up on it. Severus loathed the name. It didn't cause him any physical pain to hear, but, mentally, that was another matter. He clenched his jaw and blinked hard. "No, I have not."

Dumbledore sighed and turned away, lost in his thoughts as his luminous eyes scanned the room. The walls on the lower level of his office contained hundreds of books. The upper level, visible from where Severus stood, had towering glass windows that looked out onto pitch darkness. Severus took note of the clock just off to his right. A quarter past two.

The awareness of the time seemed to cause a reaction in Severus's body. A brutal wave of exhaustion overtook his senses, and his eyelids became heavy. He had been up now for well over twenty-four hours and had only managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep the night before. He was never able to sleep long and could go days without the practice, if necessary. Yet after so many nights this week of being summoned, thereby keeping him awake to avoid the nightmares that would surely follow, Severus's body was finally caving in to what it so desperately craved. Without so much as a 'goodnight,' the Potions Master turned to leave, his cloak sweeping the air as he made his way to the door.

"Is that all, then?"

Severus's shoulders stiffened. The question was candid enough, but the undertone wasn't. After nearly two decades of dedicated service to Dumbledore and to the school that, for so many years, had been his sanctuary, after the countless strides he had made to ensure the safety of Lily Potter's son, he _still_ wasn't trusted...

Severus's scowl deepened, a look his elder couldn't see, but then he thrashed his robes around—all rather elegantly despite his ugly temper—and stared the Headmaster down with everything he had. As was usually Dumbledore's response, Severus didn't receive so much as a flinch.

"That is all," Severus replied, drawling out the three words very slowly for the aged wizard to grasp. _This conversation is over_.

Dumbledore conceded, as if reading the tired man's mind, but surveyed Severus carefully first, before nodding to him as a form of dismissal. Severus lingered another few seconds, staring hard at his master before taking his leave, exiting as briskly as he had come.

Severus's mind was mangled and distracted by many disturbing thoughts as he descended the staircase and made his way towards his private quarters. They were now on the first floor of the castle instead of in the dungeons, an unpopular dwelling that had been both his private and teaching grounds for a decade and a half. His personal quarters weren't far, and he could sense his aching limbs propelling him faster towards the welcoming relief of his bed.

Then Severus heard something, and his inattentive mind went into action mode like a switch. He blinked and listened for the sound again. He could detect soft noises not far from where he had ceased walking. As he drew closer, the sounds became more pronounced. Lots of sniffling and heavy breathing and, was that crying?

_Insolent twit!_

Severus sneered as he rounded the corner, prepared to confront whatever student was out of bed at this hour, wandering the halls like a sniveling idiot. The corridor was dark and deserted except for a lone figure curled up on a stone bench beneath one of the stained glass windows.

At first, the professor couldn't make out who the person was, until he stepped closer, hanging back enough so as not to be noticed. Severus rather enjoyed the element of surprise when sneaking up on his blasted students, catching them off their guard when they broke school rules. At least it was _one_ particular enjoyment he could partake in throughout his otherwise miserable days at Hogwarts.

The veiled Potions Master progressed further, and by the time he reached whoever was in his grasp, he stopped. Traces of long, thick curls were illuminated by the light of the windows, falling down to the top of her head. Female. Older. Not a fourth or fifth year student. She had her head buried between her knees, which were propped up on the bench, and her arms were wound tightly around her legs for support. She was wearing matching blue robes and slippers and was sobbing quietly as she clung to the only thing she had for solace: herself.

"Miss...Granger?" Severus whispered, eying her silhouette through narrowed irises.

Hermione's head shot up and an alarmed gasp escaped her lips. She didn't move for several seconds as she tried to process the voice on the edge of the shadows. She could see only an extremely pallid face and cross expression. _Very cross_.

"Professor!" she peeped when she came to the realization of who was there. She leaned back against the stone wall, an act that forced Severus to roll his eyes.

He stepped forward into the moonlight. The faint, bluish glow seeping in through the windows painted his skin but barely touched his robes. For a moment, he didn't appear human to the distrustful Gryffindor. Then she saw glimpses of those dark, unsettling eyes that held no color, and the equally stark hair that fell in curtains around his cheeks, as well as the long, hooked nose that defined his visage. And then there was that infamously fierce stare he projected to everyone, personifying without words that he neither cared for anyone, nor wished for their company.

Hermione hardened at that foreboding look and dared not move. She could only stare back, waiting for whatever harsh sentence would be her punishment.

"What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" Severus growled, his voice both low and somewhat dangerous.

"I - Well..."

His baritone vocals did not soften, nor did his penetrable stare. "Yes, Granger?"

"I - I was hungry... I never ate dinner, so I thought—"

"You thought you'd wander down to the kitchens in search of a late night snack?"

Hermione tensed her shoulders at the mockery in his insinuation, even though it was true, and her reaction became visible to Severus as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her cheeks were red and wet, and she was biting her lip, a trait she often displayed when she was nervous or even guilty. Severus had taken notice in her first year, and, apparently, it had never stopped. He willed himself not to roll his eyes again.

"Yes, sir. Like I said, I was hungry."

"Then, pray, how did you come here?"

His tone was cool and aloof, not seemingly at all interested in her answer, but it still caught Hermione by surprise. She expected to be reprimanded straightaway. What did Professor Snape care that she was out of bed?

"I - Um, well..."

"Speak quickly, Granger," Severus snapped, growing more aggravated. "I haven't got all night."

Hermione's lips tightened. "I came down here to make my way to the kitchens but started thinking and, well, I just sort of ended up here. I - I'm sorry, Professor."

"The fact that your stomach is growling and that you have an urgent need to sob are not legitimate excuses for wandering the corridors at night, Granger. After six years, I would think Hogwarts' rules would be cemented into your head."

Hermione lowered her sad eyes. "I - I know, sir. I'm sorry."

"I know you _know_. What you and your friends seem to lack is the capacity to follow what you know. Get back to the Gryffindor common room, Granger. _Now_."

Hermione startled as if he had advanced on her. Her eyes searched the dark wizard's face for the wrath, the malice, the hunger to punish her on a whim. Shockingly, she couldn't find any of that, but then she had also noticed how utterly spent he was. Severus Snape always appeared worn out and unhealthy, but tonight was a greater example. Hermione could understand now why he had missed class. He looked terrible and not nearly as threatening as he normally would.

Then her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the stillness. Hermione rubbed it gingerly and peered up at him, still half reluctant to move. Severus heard the noise but showed no sympathy.

"When you choose not to eat, you reap the consequences. To bed, Granger. I won't tell you again."

"But I— Um, yes, sir."

Hermione stumbled to her feet, wrapping her arms tightly around herself for warmth. A puff of her excited breath caught the cold night air as she spun around to take her leave.

"Granger," Severus called to her, in a frosted tone that made her stop in her tracks. Hermione turned around, but he could not make out her face in the shadows. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for your folly."

Hermione's mouth dropped, and Severus caught a glimpse of it in the bluish outline of her face. " _Fifty?_ But _sir_ —"

"Did you think there wouldn't be repercussions for your stupidity?" Severus snarled back with a bite that stung the atmosphere. "I suggest you run along to your dormitory quickly before I deduct further points from your house! _Off with you!_ "

Hermione jumped, but spun on her heel and ran down the corridor. Severus listened to her slippers pattering softly along the stone floors until they died away. His powerfully acute senses told him she was headed back to Gryffindor Tower without making any detours along the way.

_Minerva will have a hernia when she gets wind of this._

Satisfied, though more weary than ever, Severus made his way towards his own chambers at last. His hands were still trembling, and his body ached to a near intolerable level, but the burning sensation coursing through the pale skin beneath his frock coat was at least starting to abate. He ignored treating the curses for the time being in favor of his bed, as he slipped into the familiar privacy he so craved.

Not even bothering to shower or even undress, Severus collapsed onto his four-poster bed, his cloak spread out over the emerald silk covers as he closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain. Despite his usual bouts of insomnia, Severus drifted off to sleep with ease tonight, but not before he had a final conscious thought: _Hermione Granger, that insufferable know-it-all._

He had penned that definition of her years ago. The trio, Granger, Potter, and Weasley, who had given him so much grief and headaches since they first arrived, were almost always together. So, why was she alone? And why had she been crying?

Severus let out a faint growl. It was none of his business, and he didn't really care why his student was sobbing, only that her tears were heavy. For a split second, when he stared into the miserable depths of her eyes, he saw traces of his bitterly unhappy seventeen-year-old self.

_As if I could forget._

Severus groaned and willed himself not to think. He was exhausted and had no energy to ponder such matters, nor did he wish to. Hopefully, he concluded before falling asleep at last, Hermione Granger had learned her lesson. Then again, after six years of dealing with _her_...

_Probably not._


	2. A Demonstration and Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N : I hope some of you will consider leaving me some feedback as you read... Otherwise, it really isn't worth it to me to invest in uploading 68 more chapters.**
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.

****

**Chapter 2: A Demonstration and Awakening**

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was poorly lit as usual. Ever since Professor Snape had taken over the post at the beginning of term, the atmosphere had changed dramatically. The windows were always shut, letting in no natural light whatsoever; the only source of illumination came from the torches hanging along the walls, which only made the entire space more unnerving. It certainly befitted the subject matter, as did the gruesome pictures of mutilation and torture that lined the front of the classroom. Hermione's eyes had adjusted to the low level of lighting, at least, but the general atmosphere still made her drowsy on occasion; Harry and Ron, more so.

Hermione was more than a little embarrassed that Professor Snape had witnessed her messy episode, but, for the moment, no one else was aware that it was she who lost them fifty house points, thereby giving their rival Slytherins an undesired lead. Hermione froze when she heard her classmates chewing over the lost points, trying to figure out amongst themselves who had lowered their score by so many. Harry and Ron weren't as concerned, given the circumstances of more important things happening in the wizarding world, but Ron was already in a foul mood, and learning of this bad news did little to lighten it.

"What did the stupid git do to get us knocked down by fifty points?"

"Who knows," said Harry, as he and Ron took a seat directly across from Hermione in the next aisle. "I'm sure Snape's got something to do with it though. What do you think, 'Mione?"

Hermione hadn't heard them. She was too preoccupied with her own thoughts and still half mortified by her emotional display the previous night; or earlier that morning, rather. She was also incredibly tired, not having gotten the proper amount of sleep she had hoped for.

"'Mione?" Harry pressed.

Hermione startled in her chair but turned to the boys who were watching her curiously. Ron, however, was scowling, which additionally did nothing for her nerves. "Sorry, what?"

"The points?" Ron grumbled. "Haven't you seen the house points?"

"Erm, no..."

"We're down by _fifty_ , putting us well behind Slytherin," Ron griped, annoyed that she didn't know. "It's taken us forever to catch up to 'em, and now it's going to take just as long to move back up."

"Oh, rubbish, Ron." Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Don't be overly dramatic. It's just fifty points."

"Well, Snape hasn't exactly been making it easy for us to get them in the first place, has he?"

"No, but so what? He never does."

Harry's green eyes intensified, nearly glowing. "You all right, 'Mione? You look pretty awful."

Hermione sighed and reached for her textbook. "I'm fine, Harry. I didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh." Harry suspected why, but wasn't about to push the subject; not in front of Ron, anyway.

" _Fifty points!_ " Ron continued, not paying her commentary any mind. "For what? What did we do this time?"

"It - It wasn't you or anyone else..."

Both boys turned to Hermione again, their brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Hermione glanced over at her friends and rather sheepishly bit her lower lip. "It was me who lost us our house points. I - I'm sorry."

" _You?_ " was all Ron could manage, too stunned.

"Snape caught me in the corridor last night— I mean, this morning. I wasn't trying to get caught. I - I just wanted something to eat and needed some air."

" _You_ lost us those house points?"

Ron's blue eyes were growing hazy at this information and Hermione's, in turn, flashed unnaturally. "In light of what's happening, Ron, house points should be the least of anyone's concerns, don't you think?"

Ron mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't hear, not that she wished to know. Undoubtedly, it had to do with her and wouldn't be to her liking. Harry was indifferent, but seemed in agreement with her valid point.

Suddenly, and without warning, Severus Snape came charging down a stone staircase at the front of the room that led to his office. His enigmatic, dark form descended rather elegantly, not matching the deep-seated grimace on his thin mouth. Hermione could detect as well as anyone else that the professor did not look well; but then again, he never did.

The circles under his eyes were heavyset and more like bruises than lines, and the black eyes were empty, blank in comparison to the anger he bore. He didn't need to address the class to get them to quiet down; his mere presence took care of that on its own. He stepped to the front of the class and flicked his wand madly in the air. White writing emerged on a chalkboard nearby, spelling out their task for that day's lesson: nonverbals. They had been thoroughly investigating these for weeks, and though it was a topic the students thought the professor was beginning to exhaust, no one dared to complain.

"Pair off," Severus ordered them firmly, "and your reflexes better have improved since last week's pathetic performances."

The students sprang into action, leaping out of their seats to start practicing. Hermione reluctantly partnered with Neville, although, since Hermione, Harry and Ron had formed Dumbledore's Army, he had improved tremendously, so it was of little concern.

Throughout the practice session, Severus slithered his way about the room in his usual fashion, snarking repeatedly at their "foolish blunders," and showcasing a more visible frustration than normal. Hermione felt a puzzling sensation during the course of the class. More than once, she sensed those ebony eyes scrutinizing her, as if focusing in on her more particularly than anyone else; or was she just imagining it because she was already embarrassed? She certainly wasn't in the best frame of mind anyway, and was too easily distracted by the unhappy thoughts about Ron and Lavender that had been pressing on her all week long.

Hermione's suspicions about their instructor only made her more self-conscious. More than once, she fumbled with her blocks, a feat which stunned Neville. Hermione was sharp and virtually always on target, but today she was making errors, albeit very minor ones, but it was all very unlike her. She hated that Professor Snape had caught her so exposed and vulnerable just hours ago, and it was now getting the best of her. Even her best friends hadn't seen much of that side to her, and she couldn't account for the magnitude of just how debilitating it was.

_Get a hold of yourself, Hermione! Forget about it!_

"Miss Granger!" came that dangerous growl she knew so well, though she wasn't one of the students Severus normally lost his temper with. "That is the fourth time now that you've blocked so carelessly! Where is your head?"

The remark led to several curious reactions, and many students ceased practicing to stare outright at the smartest student in the room, making her blush and long for Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Harry and Ron, too, were ogling at her, skeptical about her behavior.

"Sorry sir," she whispered, staring at the floor just as Severus reached her side. His intimation was like magic in itself, stifling and pressing in on her from all sides.

"Your apologies are no excuse and won't come in handy when you are attacked by something far more powerful than Stupefy! After all the careless adventures you, Potter and Weasley have been on, I would think that would be obvious!"

"I - I know, Professor," she stammered, twisting her fingers nervously around her wand. "I'm sorry—"

"Quit apologizing and block! Again!"

The bite to his orders made Hermione jerk, but she quickly raised her wand and prepared herself as Neville reluctantly attempted to stun her again. This time, there was no hesitation or dazed expression. Her reflexes were swift, and she sent the spell shooting back at Neville, who only just managed to stop it and looked away weakly.

"Again!" Severus commanded with a dark sneer. "And something more _challenging_ , Longbottom, if you can manage it."

By now, a majority of the students were drawing closer, including Harry and Ron. It wasn't often that Professor Snape actually encouraged his students to fight, even if it was in a roundabout manner. Hermione and Neville were equally stunned and unsure, glancing from each other to their formidable teacher and back again.

" _Ex – Expelliarmus!_ " Neville tried and failed miserably.

The lack of power to his command and the magic that issued from his wand barely reached Hermione, and she blocked it with ease. She heard the deep rumble in the back of Snape's throat and eyed him sideways. The infuriated expression on his face was menacing and anticipated, but it still managed to frighten her.

As Neville's face turned white, Severus crossed the room in just three or four steps and towered over the Gryffindor, who hunched his shoulders and tried unsuccessfully to back away. "You insolent dunderhead!" he growled, his voice louder than usual, with a hint of hysteria that was barely decipherable, but Hermione's ears caught it. "Expelliarmus? Is that the best you can do after six years, Longbottom?" Not waiting for the boy to answer, Severus stepped into his student's personal space, and Neville nearly tripped over his own feet to move back. "Get out of my way! You're a waste of my efforts!"

To Hermione's utter horror, the wizard in black faced her head on and moved his tall, lean frame into a dueling position, much like a panther crouching gracefully before it attacks its prey. She froze.

Wasn't she just musing the other day how she never, ever wanted to have to square off against Professor Snape in a duel? It seemed as though her classmates, Harry and Ron amongst them, were equally leery and uncertain about what was going on; however, intrigue took over their apprehensions when they saw Severus's stance, his wand at the ready, and those unpardonable eyes that were fixated on their target without so much as a wince.

"Do not lose your focus, Miss Granger," the dark figure across the room purred dangerously, "for I will not go so easy on you."

The hairs at the back of Hermione's neck rose. She gripped her wand tighter, but her hand was unsteady. Before she could even make sense of what was happening, the professor hurled a dozen hexes at her simultaneously.

" _Diffindo!_ "

Hermione knew the Slytherin master was quick; however, being on the receiving end of those remarkable skills, his swiftness, precision, and the absolute power of his magic shocked her to the core. She reacted and sent the first few spells back, but more were still headed her way. She managed to block them but had no time to offer a counter incantation. One after the next, she only just obstructed what was being unleashed upon her. There was no time to decipher what the spells were, but she gathered that Professor Snape was no longer issuing anything out loud for the students to hear. They were all nonverbals. It was an overwhelming operation and took the sort of proficient expertise that only the greatest wizards, such as Dumbledore, could apply.

Throughout the ordeal, Hermione managed to block better than most, but couldn't send anything back at him. It was all too fast, even for her. _This is ridiculous!_ she griped internally. Hadn't she encountered countless dangers with Harry and Ron over the years and proved more than capable of casting and blocking?

Hermione was relieved when the demonstration that she was unwillingly led into ended. She sent the final jinx back at Snape, which he stopped with a mere inward turn of his arm, and that was all. The class was staring at both of them in dumbfounded silence, although several Slytherins were snickering happily. A few actually clapped and only one blonde boy at the back kept his head down, not paying much attention to the action at all.

Hermione suddenly realized that she was breathing hard and was physically spent from this trial. Her eyes were enlarged as she stared unreservedly. She had just dueled with Severus Snape and, surprisingly, could still feel her body. And it was all intact.

Snape's stance had changed. He was twirling his wand around his fingers and standing straight as a pillar, his nose slightly turned up with an unreadable expression. The eyes were not as angry as before, and he was hardly smug or arrogant about the impressive magic he'd just unveiled before everyone. But, for a split second, a flicker of a challenge crossed the blackness in his eyes, catching Hermione off guard. She instantly reacted by lowering her wand, almost losing her footing when she saw, or so she thought, her professor give a quick, disappointed frown.

"In the future," Severus drawled casually, as if nothing had happened, "you will all block faster, cast less chaotically, and be more mindful of your surroundings." He gave Hermione a cold stare that sent a chill down her spine. "Your techniques are sloppy, at best."

* * *

"I can't believe you dueled with Snape! I'm jealous as all hell. _I'm_ the one who's always wanted to have a proper go at him!"

"Harry, you already did! And look where it landed you!"

"So what? I'd take detention for the rest of the year to have another chance at hexing the foul git."

"Honestly, Harry, you don't know what you're saying. He only tried to jinx you once. Not with me! It was terrifying, like when we were in the Department of Mysteries last year... I - I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to block them all. You should have seen his face."

"Oh, I saw it, all right! He looked like he was going to devour you for dinner. Literally." A short pause later, "I'm sorry."

"I'm over it. I was pretty shaken up afterwards, but I'm fine now. I - I just couldn't concentrate properly, that's all."

"You haven't been focusing much at all lately..."

"Oh, shove off, Harry!"

"Well, it's true. I told you, it's probably just a phase, 'Mione."

"Even if it is, I don't care! He can date whoever he likes; it means nothing to me either way."

"Erm, all right."

Another short pause and the turning of a page, Hermione spoke again. "So what did he think of Snape's demonstration?"

"Don't really know, to be honest. Ron was pretty much speechless like the rest of us, 'Mione."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I assure you that he witnessed your mad skills if that's what you're getting at."

"Oh, rubbish! Don't tease me, Harry. I fumbled through that demonstration and you know it. Snape made his point. We're far out of his league."

"I wouldn't say that. And you sent the jinxes back at him, at least."

"Yeah, you have a point, but I still performed terribly."

"Better than anyone else in the class could! Even I probably would have been too shocked to react as quickly as you did. Snape's a bastard."

"Well, I just hope next time he chooses someone else to make an example of! I much prefer Snape picking on you than me."

"Fine by me. I hate him equally; the feeling's mutual between us."

"And Ron..."

"Ron's the only one of us who has sense enough to poke fun at Snape. He gets under my skin too much for me to take him lightly. And you... Well, you're always defending him."

" _What?_ That's absurd! I am not!"

"Hermione, just now you were defending him for nearly killing you! You equated it with his superiority at casting spells!"

"I never said anything about defending Snape. I said that he's out of our league, which is the truth, Harry. He's teaching us, whether you and Ron like it or not. He's preparing us for what's out there—"

"You're wrong, 'Mione! Snape doesn't give two sods about what happens to any one of us! When this war starts, he'll be fighting on the other side! Mark my words: _he'll turn on all of us, including Dumbledore!_ "

* * *

Severus mulled over the point laboriously, and the only person he seemed to be aggravating was himself. He had other far more pressing matters to consider at the moment than that insufferable Hermione Granger, but the guilt was overpowering.

Perhaps that was the wrong angle to get my point across. His eyes glittered unnaturally as he snorted at his previous thought. _Conceited brats! How the hell else are they going to learn? No one gets distracted when at war; it's about time someone engraved that into Potter and his pals' thick skulls._

Severus heaved back in his leather chair, inhaling a slow, calculated breath as he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Things would only get worse in the coming months. Dumbledore's hand was looking worse last night when he paid the Headmaster a visit, the Dark Lord was in relatively good spirits—never a good sign for Severus and the Death Eaters—and the workload piling up in his office left him little time to rest or recoup. He was merely running on fumes at this point and finding it increasingly difficult to control his emotions, let alone his facade.

 _Yes, the face that keeps people at a distance and prevents others from penetrating what lies beneath._ He had to keep going, he _must_. Too much was at stake and it was too early for him to lose his grip now. Still, he griped inwardly with an exhaustive sigh, _it would be nice to get a few hours rest for a change._

Severus hadn't meant to put Hermione Granger through that demonstration or, at least, he hadn't meant to be so abrasive in his lesson. But wasn't that the whole point? The real world would be neither polite, nor hesitant in hexing any of Hogwarts' students when the time came. Potter had, admittedly, helped increase some of their combative skills last year, not that that changed how Severus felt about the infamous brat. He was impressed by how loyal the students were to their school and Headmaster, and that they had gone to the trouble of teaching themselves, but, from Severus's knowing perspective, they were all still ill-equipped to combat any of the Dark Lord's minions. When the time came, they would all be tested. And if they couldn't defend themselves properly, swiftly, and without fail or hesitation, then there would be no hope for any of them.

_They'll all be dead..._

Hermione Granger was undoubtedly his brightest student. She always had been. Sure, she had a lack for spontaneity and followed the outline of her textbooks to an excessive degree, but she _was_ far more intelligent than any other student. And she had managed to surprise him; a rare feat, indeed. She had blocked all of his spells and even pushed them back.

Impressive, and unexpected, Severus had thought when he was through with the lesson.

And yet, that had been partially _why_ he chose her in the first place, though it irked him more than he allowed himself to think. Her concentration had been extremely poor in class. It was very unlike her, when she had always managed to be one of the few Gryffindors who actually paid attention to his lectures and instructions without having to be routinely reprimanded or forced to do so.

His Slytherins took care to be mindful, of course, but even Draco was distracted these days, and rightfully so. He had to be patient and wait for the boy to come to him, but if he didn't come for help soon, Severus would have to take action.

 _I will have to be more ruthless_ , Severus determined after a time, opening his eyes and soaking in the shadows of his new office. _If Granger and the others have a fighting chance, then I will challenge them until they crack._ Despite his intentions to return to answering the stack of owls on his desk, a lingering thought about the curly-haired young lady surfaced, pressing on Severus's mind. _Was she crying over Potter? Was that it? No, she likes the idiot Weasley; anyone can see that. She must not separate herself from Potter though. He'll need her soon; he will need his friends more than ever if he has a prayer of surviving what is to come... That blasted Hermione Granger better not be moving her alliances around. I must ensure that she doesn't._

* * *

That evening, Severus was summoned to the Headmaster's office. Though the brilliant wizard had no clue what it might be about this time, there were several possibilities. The Dark Lord's plans, the Death Eaters' latest instructions, an alternative tonic for the curse on Dumbledore's hand, a last-minute staff meeting, Potter...

_Always bloody Potter!_

Severus let out an unconscious growl, scowling heavily as he climbed the stairs once more to Dumbledore's quarters. When he entered, he found the Headmaster standing at leisure in front of one of the high windows, gazing out over the Hogwarts grounds now immersed in darkness. Night had fallen, and it was as bleak and dark as any before.

Dumbledore's head turned halfway towards Severus, but he didn't fully turn around or make eye contact. He bowed his head respectfully and returned his attention to the window.

"You sent for me, Albus?"

"Yes, Severus. I understand you presented a bit of a challenge today in your D.A.D.A. lesson?"

Severus's black eyes narrowed. Dumbledore never challenged the Slytherin's teaching methods without a reason or an ulterior motive. "I did."

"And the young lady you demonstrated on was Miss Granger, yes?"

Severus hated the old man's rhetorical questions. The wizard already knew the answer. In fact, Severus suspected that Dumbledore already knew of the entire incident in detail, in part thanks to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House.

"Yes, it was Miss Granger," he replied mechanically.

"Why?"

 _That_ was unexpected. Severus's eyes glittered for a second, more out of curiosity and wariness than any other reason. "She is the only student capable, Albus. I daresay if most of our students squared off with a group of Death Eaters tomorrow, they wouldn't last more than a minute. They are all in dire need of more vigorous training, even Potter."

"Ahhh, on that point, Severus, I most certainly agree." Dumbledore turned around, his long, purple robes following suit. His wrinkled face was serene but serious at the same time. "That is why I summoned you tonight. Forgive me, I know you need your rest."

Severus tried not to snarl outright. It was no one's business how he took care of himself, not even Dumbledore's. "I'm fine, Albus."

"I should hope so."

"What is it that you need?"

"Harry, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley... They have grown so much since last term. I, myself, think you don't give the three of them enough credit—" Severus hissed under his breath, a sound that not only the Headmaster but all the moving portraits in his office picked up on. Dumbledore continued as if uninterrupted, "But I do worry about how far they will get, particularly Harry, once I am gone."

Severus turned his head slightly, a few raven hairs falling softly around his eyes. "Albus," he stated rather cautiously, his voice unwavering, "we've already discussed this. You know the lengths I will go to ensure—"

"Yes, I know, Severus, but I sense you and I are troubled by a similar point. Perhaps it is nothing. But then again, perhaps it _is_ something..."

"No riddles tonight, Albus." Severus's voice was lower now and brittle, hinting at his inner annoyance with his master. "You want me to make sure that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley stay close to him, yes?"

Dumbledore laced his withered fingers together and a brief glimpse of the curse on his right hand was visible, before he enfolded his other hand over to disguise it from view. His fingers had darkened first by the curse, but now it had spread to his knuckles, despite the tonic Severus had been administering to him since the summer when it happened.

"Miss Granger," he continued delicately, "is exceedingly bright, as you know, and I think she will be most useful to Harry once the inevitable is in motion. I... I'd hate for Harry to do this alone, Severus. I know the Order will help him in every way possible, but he needs his friends. He won't survive long enough without them."

"He's only survived this long by a fortunate consistency of dumb luck," Severus replied in a rather acid tone. "It is a wonder the boy's made it this far, Albus, you must admit."

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "He's certainly had ample help from others, particularly Miss Granger."

When Dumbledore paused, Severus stared without blinking. "I fail to understand what Miss Granger has to do with me."

Dumbledore drew several steps closer to the rigid, dark wizard in his office, eying him over with a flicker of brightness in his blue eyes. There was a hint of a smile on his mouth too, which, to Severus, was never a good omen.

"I think you _do_ understand me, Severus, and better than most, in fact. I believe you care more about Harry's fate than you will ever admit to me, let alone to yourself. You know how greatly the future depends on him, and that future is _uncertain_..."

"I know." Severus's tone may have been passive, as if he were bored with this whole conversation, but Dumbledore could penetrate through the mask, if only a little, without knowing his Potions Master all that well. "You already know what I will do, Albus. What of Miss Granger?"

"If she and Mr. Weasley are to aid Harry, then we need to keep a watchful eye on them. It may be necessary for you to interact with her in the future. This is more than you would like, Severus, I know, but I sense a disturbance already amongst the three of them that has me concerned."

"I've sensed it, too. Miss Granger has never performed so poorly in my class as she has this past week. But Albus, those twits are always together. I doubt our reservations are more than just that."

Dumbledore, again, laughed at Severus's slight and shook his head a little. "Just keep an eye on them, won't you?"

Severus's pupils contracted, making the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. "I've only been doing so for years," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Severus, you know what I'm getting at—"

"Of course I do."

"If a little encouragement is needed..."

"Don't even think about it!" Severus snapped. "I'm doing everything in my power, Albus! Let that be enough!"

"Miss Granger will need to know more, Severus. The matter is dire and is becoming much more necessary. We both know Mr. Weasley is perhaps a little too—"

"Thick?" Severus interjected with an obvious sneer.

Dumbledore's gentle smile broadened. "I was going to say 'ignorant,' but if you insist."

Severus snorted and relaxed his shoulders a little. He sighed deeply and released a bit of the magical tension that surrounded his stark reserve, gazing at Dumbledore with less severity than before.

"I make no guarantees, Albus. I trust no one, you know that. I will continue to trust no one. Not even you. You understand—"

"That your way is clear?" There was a twinkle behind the powerful wizard's spectacles that Severus found odd, but he chose to ignore it, along with the man's retort. Those words stung far worse than his Headmaster could possibly know. "Yes, I do, Severus. I trust you will do what is necessary, what is right, when the time comes, just as you have done in my service all these years."

"Not yet," Severus grumbled, turning his eyes away momentarily to some inanimate object in the room, "and not unless it becomes _absolutely necessary_."

"Yes, Severus, when it is _absolutely necessary_."

"Very well then."

Not asking to be excused, nor really needing to, Severus turned away from Dumbledore and left his office without another word, his form in full force as he made his way back to his private quarters with a determination to forget their discussion immediately.


	3. Out of Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

**Chapter 3: Out of Order**

"What the bloody hell has gotten into him?" 

"I think he wants to ensure that those fifty points we lost are well kept," Harry muttered under his breath. 

"Probably. McGonagall's furious." 

"And for good reason! It's absurd! But then..." 

" _It's Snape_ ," Ron grumbled, curling his lips as if he had tasted something grotesque. 

"Yeah." 

"Did you see how frightened poor Parvati was? He nearly made her cry, the ruddy old git! She took a serious hit with that second hex." 

Hermione pushed her way past them as they made their way to their next class following D.A.D.A. It had been an intense lesson for everyone. Nearly a week after Hermione had been forced to take on Snape in class, the professor's temperament had not improved, though this wasn't much of a surprise to anyone; only now, his tactics were even more severe than the norm and were starting to affect everyone's belief in their own capabilities. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione were beginning to doubt themselves. None of them had ever felt more confused or unhinged. 

"Honestly, you two, stop whining," said Hermione with a sigh, as she diverted her eyes from Ron. Once she was at a safe distance ahead of them, she called over her shoulder, "We weren't as well equipped last year as we thought." 

Hermione was glad her back was turned so as not to witness her friends' reactions. Surely, they would have been appalled and even slighted, Harry especially, as he had formed Dumbledore's Army and oversaw their instructions in their fifth year. 

Hermione was pretty unnerved herself. She had thought herself highly skilled when it came to wizarding combat, but Snape was quickly putting them all to shame, even her. Granted, the man was older, and thereby had had much more time to perfect his skills. He was far more experienced, and it was little wonder that he continuously won duels against everyone in class, even if he had been unprepared for Harry to come back at him in their first lesson that term. 

Hermione couldn't figure out what his _motives_ were, and that's what was puzzling her clever mind, even more than the lessons themselves. The Slytherin professor had never been one to go out of his way to help any of his students, except, perhaps, for Draco Malfoy and a few of his snakes. It all seemed like a rather cruel joke. Either he was going out of his way to belittle them all, or was actually trying to help them; Hermione couldn't decide which. If the wizarding world would soon see the onslaught of war, Severus Snape was hardly convincing them that they were ready. If anything, he was illustrating that they probably didn't have a fighting chance. 

Oddly enough though, this didn't bother Hermione as much as her peers. Years of experience with the dark, unpopular wizard had taught Hermione never to take Professor Snape, or anyone else, at face value. There _had_ to be an underlying reason to such brutal tactics, and even if she couldn't gather what it was, she hoped for improvement and some much-needed reassurance. 

Take it in stride, she reminded herself during that day's lesson. _Remind that to Harry, too; and to Ron, if possible._

* * *

Severus had a pounding headache as he sat down to grade his students' performances. Why was he even wasting his time? They were sixth years at this point, and if this was the best they could do, then he wasn't about to exhaust his own efforts. He had been at them relentlessly and at the rest of the students, including the first years, for nearly three months now, trying to run home the point that they must work harder—without trying to push them over the edge. Or maybe he was; he had lost sight at this point.

Just as Severus dipped his feathered quill in his infamous red ink to begin his evaluations that would contain no room for mercy, a shooting pain grabbed hold of his left arm and he dropped his quill. Red ink splattered across the parchment in front of him, but he paid the mess little mind. He couldn't have. Receiving a summoning from the Dark Lord was never a comfortable experience. 

Without checking the source of such pangs, only clutching his left arm and diverting the desire to wince by shifting his focus elsewhere, Severus crept to his feet and turned to the roaring fireplace behind his desk. Like the Headmaster, he could Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts at will, but he was the only one allowed the privilege by Dumbledore, considering his circumstances. He had given Severus the needed password to do so, and though Severus knew he should probably leave word with Dumbledore, he quickly decided against it. 

_No time_ , he concluded. 

Severus's body suddenly swirled and contorted, before vanishing from his gloomy office. In an instant, he was on his feet again on the edge of a messy yard and small shack that were both in shambles. The grounds were overgrown, almost masking the abandoned house from view. Its windows were boarded up, and there was an overgrown path leading to its front door, should any Muggle be absurd enough to trespass. 

Severus waved branches, twigs, and shrubs out of the way easily enough with his magic, constructing a clear pathway for himself as he swiftly made his way towards the house. A flicker of light peeped through one of the boarded windows on the first level. Severus could already sense who was present before he entered and immediately closed off his mind, using the power of Occlumency to shield himself from those within. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the rusted handle and tread inside. An eerie, unnatural voice greeted him. "Severus..." 

Severus stepped forward with his hands behind his back and offered a respectable bow, his dark hair falling around his face to mask his expression. "My Lord," he replied. 

"Let me see you," the source of the voice hissed. 

Severus brought himself upright and the dark strands fell back, away from his unreadable expression, and his eyes soaked in the scene before him. A woman, two men, and Lord Voldemort were gathered near a dirty, blackened hearth; the fire was dying out, leaving the atmosphere almost as frigid as the winter chill outside. 

"Snivellus, you look positively dreadful. More than the usual, I'd say. Are we feeling the _pressure_ these days?" 

It was the wicked female who had spoken. She cackled in a manner that made her sound like a mad loon. There was little need though, for she already looked the part of someone who had lost their mind eons ago. 

Severus didn't flinch or regard her much. His black eyes simply stared straight into hers as he whispered in a monotone voice, "You look about as attractive as a Blast-Ended Skrewt, Bellatrix. Spare me your unenlightening thoughts. You're wasting your time. You're tedious and your words mean nothing to me." 

The witch named Bellatrix went red in the face and her crooked, unhealthy smile faded at the brash insult. The two male Death Eaters beside her snickered softly, but Lord Voldemort said nothing. Even when the witch turned to him for some sort of aid, hoping that her master would reprimand the Hogwarts professor, he showed no indication of doing so. 

Once the Death Eaters quieted, Lord Voldemort spoke in a gentle whisper, though it was hardly warm or inviting, "I wish for a progress report on Draco. How is he coming along?" 

Severus inwardly puzzled over the matter. In truth, he hadn't given much thought to the boy lately, and only over the past few weeks, as he worked tirelessly to bring his students up to speed on nonverbals. He shifted his shoulders and lifted his head slightly. 

"Draco has refused my help thus far, my Lord, but I believe him to be making solid progress. I sense he may come to me soon for some guidance, perhaps before the holidays, but, so far, he is insistent on taking care of the matter himself." 

"The brat better be making progress," Bellatrix's high-pitched voice swept over the room, causing Lord Voldemort's eyes—if they could be called such—to flicker, "or he'll have me to deal with, my Lord!" 

"Silence, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord stated quietly, a dangerous threat indeed, "and do not interrupt me again." 

It took all of Severus's composure not to smirk outright, seeing the look of shame that followed the Dark Lord's demand. Bellatrix stepped back and slunk her head a little, watching Lord Voldemort sheepishly out of the corner of her eye. 

Voldemort stepped forward and began to circle Severus, a psychological tactic he did so often that Severus wasn't even sure if the wizard was aware of it; a twelve-foot snake accompanied his progression. She was green, thick, and hinted at a higher intelligence than a Muggle would have ever suspected. Nagini, ever the Dark Lord's faithful companion, turned her head up to Severus to inspect him as thoroughly as her master. 

"I need you to find out just how far along Draco is, Severus. If he is behind schedule or faltering, I am trusting you to intercede." 

"I will, my Lord," Severus uttered without fail. 

"Understand, I take no pity on Lucius or Narcissa. This is to be done and if Draco fails, there _will_ be consequences..." 

"I understand, my Lord." 

"If he is failing, you are to tell me at once. There are far greater things at stake here than a mere boy's self-righteousness." 

"Agreed." 

"And what of Potter?" 

"Your lordship will be happy to know that he is lackluster, at least in my lessons. He has not improved much since last year." 

This seemed to please the Dark Lord greatly, for an unsettling smile drew across his mouth. His unnerving red eyes also glittered momentarily at the news. 

"Wonderful," he hissed, lacing his long fingers together as he inspected Severus for any hint of fabrication. "No doubt his little fan club will come to his aid when the time presents itself, but we will deal with them accordingly." 

"Of course, my Lord." 

"Then I leave you to your duties, Severus. I expect a more in-depth report from you on Draco soon. Make no mistake, next time I summon you, I expect _more_ details." 

Severus bowed his head respectfully. "I understand, my Lord. I shall not fail you." 

"That remains to be seen," Bellatrix mumbled under her breath; everyone heard it. 

Lord Voldemort's smile lessened, but still remained, as he turned to the unsightly witch, who was standing back with her arms crossed and a most abrasive stare aimed directly at the professor. "That may be so, Bellatrix," said the Dark Lord, "but you all still have much to prove to me. You may have taken the pledge to be my follower, but I can smell betrayal well before the onslaught. Severus has been exceedingly loyal to me, just as much as you have, Bellatrix, but do not be so careless as to believe yourself safe from my undoing." 

Severus took a hurried moment to stare the witch down, his eyes glimmering triumphantly just for her before they faded. The Dark Lord hadn't noticed, but Bellatrix had and, to his delight, her mad eyes enlarged and her cheeks flushed. He always had a way of setting her on edge. She had never trusted Severus and, therefore, was more than a liability to him. She was also the only member who ever questioned his loyalty, and had the nerve to vocalize her misgivings to anyone who would listen. 

"My Lord," Severus bowed once more as a form of departure, "I shall report to you as soon as I receive word. It shouldn't be long." 

"Very well, Severus. You may go." 

Bellatrix stumbled forward, her eyes pleading with her master. " _That's it?_ Can't I... Aren't I allowed to..." 

Severus's eyebrows tapered, but he said nothing, waiting for Lord Voldemort to address her unfinished questions. "I appreciate your bloodlust and enthusiasm, Bellatrix, but not tonight. I have indulged you far too frequently. I need my Slytherin Head of House to be on his guard and alert for the time being." 

Bellatrix hung her head again, her black hairs snarling and haphazardly pulled together. She wouldn't get what she wanted tonight, what she so often craved for when any number of Death Eaters were gathered: torture. She twiddled her fingers and shot Severus a deadly glare, but he, in turn, offered her nothing. His placid, emotionless mask exasperated the witch more than any snarky remark he could make at her expense. Severus knew it, taking private delight in the reactions he garnered from her so often as a result of doing _nothing_. 

"You may go, Severus. I shall summon you again soon." 

"My Lord." 

Severus took his leave at once, his long cloak sweeping the air dramatically as he exited the beaten down house. Once safely outside and at a considerable distance, he Disapparated, returning to his warm confines at Hogwarts. The pain in his arm had subsided, but the self-loathing and sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn't. 

* * *

Snape's short fuse couldn't take it anymore, though his mounting frustrations were barely noticeable to his students. Those eyes, however, gleamed and swarmed with fury. His anger at the grumpy ginger and obnoxiously clever girl was now reaching a dire level. He stalked forward with his fists clenched.

"Granger! Weasley!" he spat, as all the students rose to group into their usual pairings. Ron and Hermione froze, their shoulders tensing at the professor's icy address. Snape progressed down the aisle towards them with a twitch of his upper lip. "You will be partners for today's practice session. Longbottom, go with Potter. Now!" 

Hermione saw the stupid gape on Ron's face. It infuriated her enough to speak up, "Professor, please—" 

"Did I make myself clear, Miss Granger?" 

The darkness of his eyes was enough to make her think twice. "Yes, sir." She bowed her head, not daring to make eye contact with Ron as usual. She could literally feel her friend's anger filtering through the gap between them. 

As Snape turned on his heel, Ron dared to also speak up with a heavy frown, "May I ask _why_ , sir?" 

Snape abruptly turned around and shot Ron a ferocious glare that made the Weasley swallow nervously. "You may not," he retorted, leaving them to muddle it over as they saw fit. 

Hermione turned to Neville and Harry, both of whom looked just as befuddled as she and Ron were, but the boys quickly shrugged and walked off. Ron and Hermione slunk to a spot near their friends, standing at a distance from each other, both eying the other awkwardly. Both could easily sense what the other was thinking: this was beyond uncomfortable and neither one of them wanted to be remotely nearby. But they simply had no choice, unless they wished to be on the receiving end of Severus Snape's wrath. 

Hermione shifted her eyes away momentarily and caught a peculiar sight that made her shoulders stiffen. Snape was now leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the room with his arms laced over his chest. It wasn't his casual demeanor that was so unnerving, so much as the penetrating stare of those ebony irises, which weren't watching the various hexes and blocks being cast throughout the room. Their attention was instead entirely focused on _her_. Hermione couldn't help but startle and was even more taken aback when she saw Snape smirk rather wickedly, undoubtedly delighted with the reaction she gave him. 

By the time she turned her attention back to Ron, he was reluctantly raising his wand, but his eyes were narrowed, his jaw angled and set. Hermione blinked quickly and raised her wand. She shot the first spell, and poor Ron barely had time to react. He shot the incantation back at Hermione, who not only blocked it with ease but hurled another jinx at him that, unfortunately, was too ill-timed for Ron; he went spiraling backwards several feet before landing hard on his rear. 

Ron let out a cry of pain as he hit the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, a sight that Hermione couldn't help but feel _good_ about. When she chanced a quick glance at Snape, he wasn't paying any mind to the pained student on the floor. He was still looking at her, and the dark curls at the edge of his mouth had broadened into, if she was bold enough to believe it, a contented smirk. Hermione almost wanted to grin back, but thought better of it. She'd probably receive a detention if she made any attempt at cordiality. 

"Again, Miss Granger," Snape demanded of her in his deep, rich voice, "and this time, give Mr. Weasley adequate time to block, if you please." 

Ron, now getting to his feet and massaging his backside gingerly, scowled at the professor. Hermione jolted, knowing full well how Ron's tongue was often quicker than his brain, especially when he was in a bad temper, but she wasn't fast enough. 

"I _had_ adequate time, Professor!" he spat bitterly. 

Snape simply turned his head, looking over his student with a cold air of indifference that would rub anyone the wrong way. "Then you are under a severely misguided impression that you are somehow a sufficient dueler, Mr. Weasley. A Death Eater could take you out with a flick of his wrist, judging by that pitiful performance. _Again!_ " 

Hermione swallowed hard. This had certainly become the routine of their lessons, but it didn't make the professor's harsh criticism any easier to stomach. She almost felt bad for Ron as he trudged back to his spot, scowling miserably all the while with a hand on his rear, but then she remembered why she was so angry at him, and that fueled her concentration. 

Her mind suddenly felt clear, focused, ready... She raised her wand and waited for whatever Ron would throw at her, this time giving the ginger more than enough time to make his move. Then she noticed the misdirected anger in those familiar blue eyes and felt immediately sickened inside, and deeply hurt. It weakened her concentration, if only just, and that was all that was needed by the Weasley. 

Ron sent a series of spells at Hermione, one after the next, which shell-shocked her as well as the rest of the students. They never practiced so heatedly on one another, but this duel between the two Gryffindors was something altogether different; it was vengeful. Hermione sent each jinx back at Ron, and, finally, he flew back again at the last incantation, unable to block the spell that he, himself, had unleashed upon her. 

When he recovered, Ron sputtered several colorful remarks as he hurriedly stumbled to his feet. Harry, however, ran to his mate's side at that same moment and grabbed him by a fist full of his robes. 

"Ron, what the hell—" 

"Shove off, Harry!" Ron growled and, being larger than the famous boy with the round glasses, shoved him away with ease. He stared Hermione down with a very ugly expression that made her stomach churn. In that moment, Hermione's nerves were tattered. She had never seen Ron more infuriated in all the time they had known each other, and it was all for her. 

Hermione couldn't move or breathe. Her legs were cemented to where she stood, and it was Snape's authoritative, menacing drone that finally distracted her from the vicious pair of eyes fixated on her. She blinked several times and found Harry being thrown aside by the professor as he stalked his way over to Ron, warning Harry not to try to interfere again. 

"Wipe that idiotic look off your face, Weasley!" he snarled close to Ron's face, and the Gryffindor slowly turned to soak in his enraged instructor. They were practically eye level with one another, but it didn't seem to deter either of them one bit. "Serves you right for your ridiculous stupidity! You should never hurl more hexes than you are able to block! And the very notion that you're only capable of blocking three hexes at a time is a sad reality, indeed! You should be more mindful of what you're doing, you ignorant sod!" 

Hermione felt like her heart had plummeted into the pit of her stomach at what happened next. Ron unexpectedly lunged at Snape, dropping his wand in the process, and pushed the powerful wizard against a wall with all his might, showcasing his teeth in a rare display of utter rage. 

" _Ron!_ " Harry cried, stunned, and several others joined him in total shock as they attempted to break up the altercation, though it was really only Ron that they tried to dissuade. 

There were several muffled cries and excited whispers as Snape lunged back, growling savagely in an animal-like fashion, his white face contorted first in surprise, and then in an anger all his own. Ron made several attempts at a punch or a push, but Snape pushed right back with equal force. Before long, Snape brought himself free of Ron's clutches with a rather elegant wave of his arm before his other drew back, then thrust forward to meet Ron's freckled nose, hard. There was a jolt-defining crunch and Ron toppled to the floor with a crash. 

By the time Hermione and everyone else could make sense of what had occurred, Ron was on the floor, covering his face with one hand and cursing at the blood trickling from his broken nose and onto the floor. Snape was towering over him; his stark frame paused in mid-action, his wand pointed directly at his student's face. The burning enmity in his eyes was enough to make everyone keep their distance, including many of his Slytherins. 

Hermione's quivering limbs started to make their way towards the crowd that had formed around them, but it was Draco Malfoy—the sixth year Slytherin who, for so many years, had given her and her friends such personal grief—who dared to approach their infuriated teacher. He halted beside Snape and hesitantly reached for one of the wizard's powerful forearms. 

"Sir?" It was then that Hermione noticed Snape's body convulsing, as well as his heavy, uneven breaths. "Professor? He - He needs to go to the hospital wing..." 

If hell had frozen over, then it paled in comparison to _this_ surprise for Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. Draco aiding Ron in a roundabout way? Impossible. Then again, he was the only person who chanced approaching Snape in such a furious state. No one else had dared. 

Snape's focus abruptly shifted, and his dark lashes fluttered. He seemed to be drawing himself out of his rage, and when he came to, his face morphed back into one of total composure and reserve. He exhaled long and deep and withdrew his wand somewhere into his coat, taking a moment to regard Draco before returning his attention to the bloody mess on his floor. 

"Clean yourself up, Mr. Weasley," Snape spat dangerously, his voice low and controlled as he bore his teeth, "and expect a month's worth detention for being so presumptuous as to think you could overrun me. How dare you. You are thicker than I ever took you for, you insolent, big-headed buffoon. _Get out_." 

* * *

"Miss Granger."

Hermione had been unconsciously staring at the spot where Ron had been sprawled only minutes before, and doing so without blinking. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there, but supposedly it was long enough to warrant her professor's attention. The rest of the class had resumed dueling, with the exception of Draco, who apparently asked permission to leave, a request Snape willingly granted ("Something he'd never let us do!" the Gryffindors griped to one another as they practiced). 

"Sir?" Hermione managed weakly, trying to gather her wits after what had just happened. Her warm, caramel irises ogled Snape, who was now mere inches from her and staring down with equal intensity. She couldn't read his face—no one ever could—but he seemed to be searching hers for something. 

"Your short attention span is severely limiting your ability to practice any combative spells proficiently. Did you actually fight at the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term, or was that all made up?" 

"S - Sir?" 

"Your attention, Miss Granger," he emphasized with a hiss. "You have been emotionally distracted for weeks. Get it out of your system already and move on." 

To this remark, Hermione jerked and blinked hard. She scanned his dark eyes and the blank expression that stared back, but found no trace of what he was insinuating. Finally, she managed to blurt out, "Wha - What do you mean, sir?" 

Snape surprised her with a prolonged sigh that morphed into an all-around weary disposition. He suddenly looked much older, even slightly weaker, though Hermione figured she could very well be imagining that, remembering how the mighty professor had nearly knocked Ron out cold only minutes ago. 

"I think you know, Miss Granger," he stated flatly before turning around to leave her where she stood, bewildered and self-conscious all over again.


	4. Luck or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 4: Luck or Not**

"You lost your composure, Severus." 

Severus loathed being scolded by the old man like a dog and hissed defiantly, "Weasley deserved it! He is irrevocably stupid and a cauldron waiting to overheat. If he proves to be of any use to Potter in the near future, I will retire to Spinner's End and never set foot in this castle again!" 

"Even so, Severus," said Dumbledore with an amused twinkle in his eyes, "did you _have_ to break the boy's nose?" 

"Yes," Severus replied matter-of-factly. "Minerva can gripe all she wants. It was justified." 

Dumbledore shook his head a little, but continued to smile as he inadvertently rubbed at his cursed hand. He quickly decided to shift gears. "Well, I have been showing Harry some of the memories of Tom Riddle, you know, the ones I've already shown you, and I think he'll successfully be able to crack Horace and get that memory before too long." 

"I see." 

Severus sighed and tried not to look as dreadful as he felt. _I have much to do_ , his tired mind plagued him. _Hurry this along, goddamn it._

"You know Harry managed to brew a near perfect Draught of the Living Dead?" 

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I have heard as such. It's been well over a month, and Horace still won't shut up about it or Potter in general, for that matter." 

"And with good reason, Severus. It's vital that Harry gain Horace's trust." He abruptly frowned and scrutinized Severus more carefully. "I thought he was quite horrid at Potion-making? I recall you saying so many times..." 

Severus's eyes constricted, but his face remained emotionless. "Potter was always less than acceptable at the subject, as you already know, Albus. I have no idea where his sudden, heightened skills are coming from, but I'm sure they aren't _honorable_." 

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore needled, still sounding quite amused, "I know you don't care for the boy, but you are too harsh on him in many respects—" 

"Is that why you summoned me tonight, Albus? To tell me that I should coddle and baby Potter? It will never happen, not in this lifetime, or in the next, so tell me _why_ you've brought me here. I have much—" 

Dumbledore put a hand up to stop Severus mid-sentence and inched closer, inspecting his former pupil unreservedly over his half-moon spectacles. "I know, Severus. I am sorry to have summoned you so late. I know you have a lot weighing on you at the moment. This should only take a few more minutes." Dumbledore meandered around his large desk and took a seat, lying back comfortably against the high chair that towered to the brim of his hat. "It's about Miss Granger." 

Severus cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowing. "Miss Granger?" he repeated, seemingly uninterested. "What about her?" 

Dumbledore did not answer right away and instead surveyed the wizard in black, his fierce, blue eyes alert and illuminating. He leaned forward and placed his hands in his lap. "I think it is _absolutely necessary_..." 

Severus's face slowly manifested into a genuine expression of horror. " _What?_ " 

"Weasley, as you already pointed out, is a loose cannon, and we can't expect Harry to retain everything he needs to know and still keep his head on straight. The poor boy has been psychologically damaged enough as it is. He's lost Sirius, he witnessed Voldemort's return, and he knows the Prophecy. I see no reason to damage his psyche any further. Not yet, anyhow." 

"Then why Miss Granger?" Severus inquired with heightened awareness, his pitch elevating slightly. 

"Because you know why, Severus..." 

"Then why _now?_ " 

"You know the answer to that too, my friend. And we both know that you know far more about the Dark Lord's plans than I. I suspect the timing to be right and if my judgment is correct, then it _is_ time. Am I right?" 

There was a long pause before the rigid body of Severus Snape stirred. His hands swept into fists at the same time as his jaw tightened. A muscle switched against one of his high cheeks and he confided in a deeply pained whisper, "Yes..." 

Dumbledore turned away from Severus at last, absent-mindedly surveying the curious contents scattered around his desk, his bright mind clearly somewhere else. Finally, he rose out of his chair and strode towards Severus, gradually, but with a firm resolution in his stride. "Very well," he replied, sounding more like the mighty wizard for which he was renowned. "I trust you to deliver the information to Miss Granger over time. Don't be too hostile, and give her time to thoroughly absorb what needs to be done." 

The peculiarity in Severus's dark eyes was more than enough to show his understanding of the Headmaster's instructions. He was very much set against this idea, that much was certain to Dumbledore, so Dumbledore did not push him for a response. 

As the former Potions instructor turned to exit his master's office, Dumbledore clasped him gently on the shoulder. Severus flinched at the contact, as he did whenever he received the touch of a hand from anyone; it was an all too rare occurrence that startled him greatly. He turned to stare deep into Dumbledore's eyes, which were now twinkling in a different light. 

"Severus, I know how opposed you are to this idea. I know you would much prefer that I tell Harry everything that we've gathered to this point. I intend to divulge to Harry what I can, but right now his concentration _must_ be on learning everything he can about Tom Riddle and retrieving Horace's memory. 

"I know you would rather let Miss Granger be, but there is nothing you can do about it. She is the brains of that trio. Make no mistake, if we are to choose between them, if they have the slightest chance of accomplishing what needs to be done, then our best hopes lie with Miss Granger to do whatever is necessary. For Harry. I trust the boy to rise to the inevitable. He surely will, but he _needs_ Miss Granger's expertise to help him achieve those ends. Even if it means the sacrifice of those he loves... 

"Work with her, Severus, convince her, do whatever is necessary, within reason, to bring her to some sort of understanding. I'm counting on you." 

Severus understood the gravity of this moment, as well as the full extent of what the Headmaster was asking of him. It was a burden Severus had always been reluctant to place upon the young Gryffindor, ever since Dumbledore raised the idea in her first year. 

Whether Severus Snape could be patient enough and actually take the time with Miss Granger whilst also lecturing, grading, brewing potions, answering owls, helping Draco with the daunting task ahead, continue serving the Dark Lord to the fullest capacity without getting caught, and, at the same time, continue serving his Headmaster as well was a whole other matter. 

_How will I manage?_ Severus reflected silently. For some reason though, he could sense that Dumbledore knew the odds his Slytherin instructor was wagering against himself at that very moment. 

"I understand, Albus," he answered, with a weighty sigh. 

"Thank you, Severus. I trust you know then how much is riding on your efforts..." 

* * *

"Anything?" Harry asked, as he snuck up behind Hermione in one of the many crowded corridors.

"Still nothing," she muttered back, before Harry quickly changed topics. 

"Have you seen Ron?" 

"Yeah, this morning in the Great Hall; he wouldn't talk to me, of course, which is fine by me, but he looked..." 

"Bad, eh?" 

"Well, it's not pretty, if that's what you're wondering." 

"Suffice it to say that the greasy git _really_ nailed him?" Harry chuckled under his breath, unable to contain his amusement. 

"Honestly, Harry, it's not funny! And anyway, why weren't _you_ at breakfast?" 

"Oh, um," he rubbed a hand through his long, messy locks and diverted his eyes, "I ran into Ginny on my way to the Great Hall and we just sort of ended up roaming the hallways and talking..." 

"Oh." A faint smile curled at the edges of Hermione's mouth. Her redheaded friend had failed to mention that when she spotted the youngest Weasley in the library earlier that day. "Well, I hope it was worth skipping a meal over?" 

"Mmm." 

Hermione didn't know what to make of that vague response but didn't chance pushing her curiosity further. They continued to walk the crowded hallways at a leisurely pace. 

"So still nothing on the Half-Blood Prince then?" 

"No, Harry, I already told you, I've been searching in every book I can find. I'm running out of options." 

"Well, let me know if you find any leads, all right?" 

"All right. Hey, where are you going?" Harry suddenly burst into a sprint down the corridor, leaving her behind. 

"To see Ginny!" he hollered over his shoulder before disappearing into the throng of rowdy students. 

_I guess I'll be in the library again tonight_ , Hermione reflected, sighing with disappointment. _So much for a fun-filled Friday evening._

None of the few friends she had seemed to be available anymore. Harry and Ginny were spending an awful lot of time together. Neville was hanging out more and more with Luna Lovegood, the peculiar Ravenclaw who, last year, had somehow found her way into their group of friends. And Ron, of course, was with Lavender, and Hermione and Ron were refusing to speak to one another, so there wasn't a chance in hell of hanging out with him, especially now that he received a sucker punch to the face by the teacher he hated the most. 

He must be in such a foul mood right now. Remembrance of that shocking moment from the day before brought a fresh smile to Hermione's face as she lazily made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. 

* * *

As Hermione meandered to a table at the back of the library, far away from any group of obnoxiously chatty students—there weren't many, seeing as the weekend was starting—Hermione caught sight of someone she least expected to encounter: Professor Snape. The formal instructor was standing by one of the stained glass windows, holding a book up to what little natural light still seeped in through the glass. It was now dusk and the sun was fading fast, but Snape didn't seem content to resort to candlelight just yet.

 _Just my luck_ , Hermione thought, feeling suddenly self-conscious. _Although, perhaps it's not such a bad thing. Maybe I can find out what he's up to._

As Hermione quietly took a seat at an empty table that was directly kitty-corner from the Potions Master, she couldn't help but survey him over the top of her book. If she was going to intrude, the least she could do was try to be discreet about it. 

It was indeed a rarity to find Snape in the library. The man was elusive in his comings and goings and seemed to materialize out of nowhere most of the time. If he frequented the library as much Hermione suspected, given his vast, extensive wizarding knowledge and the impressive book collection contained in his classroom and office, he probably came after hours. 

As Hermione watched him, she was quite surprised to witness how relatively _different_ Snape appeared when surrounded by books, quietude, and natural lighting. The infamous scowl was certainly still there, though not nearly as pronounced as it normally was. The snide mouth was more focused, angled awkwardly, reacting to whatever content he was actively engaged in. The mysterious eyes were squinting, but not at all in a harsh manner. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the professor required reading glasses but simply chose not to wear them. The worn book held by his elegant, long fingers was treated with the utmost care, and Snape's delicate lips unconsciously moved along to whatever text was capturing his seemingly undivided attention. 

_I wonder if he's aware that he does that?_ Hermione mused to herself, as she kept darting her curious eyes between her own book and the intriguing figure standing across the room. 

Snape unconsciously removed one of his pale hands from the book covering and placed it casually on his hip, gracefully drawing his right leg over the other. He shifted his weight to his right and leaned into the wall, continuing with his reading undisturbed in a more casual stance. Whatever it was, he seemed very much immersed and unaware of being observed; or did he? 

After about her eighth attempt at eying him inconspicuously, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat when she noticed a second pair of eyes looking back. She hadn't expected Snape's grim eyes to catch her staring and quickly glanced away, hiding behind her thick book, mortified, and a little petrified, too. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and fought to come off as composed and unbothered as possible, but then Snape spoke in the caustic tone Hermione had heard so many times before, and her feeble act was ruined. 

"If you have something earth-shattering to tell me, Miss Granger, I suggest you get on with it. It's impolite to stare." 

Hermione cautiously peered over her book, her warm countenance looking more than a tad sheepish, and the former Potions professor rolled his eyes. _Blasted Gryffindors. Always a dead giveaway._ He watched the young witch gradually lay down her book and attempt to keep eye contact with him. 

"Sorry, sir. I wasn't trying to pry, I just... What are you reading?" 

One of Snape's eyebrows rose, causing Hermione to flush a shade redder, but she was quite shocked when he actually answered her question, and rather politely too. Well, for _Severus Snape_ anyway. "I am researching the potential crossover between Blood-Replenishing Potion and Strengthening Solution when mixed with a certain antidote. So far, my attempts have been for naught, and I have yet to add the antidote to a successful combination. If the feat is possible, I haven't found the solution yet. My research is ongoing." 

"Oh... And that?" Hermione nodded nervously to the weathered book in his hands. 

Snape seemed disinterested in her spirit of inquiry but indulged her, nevertheless. "A very old Potions text by a highly intelligent, but also very old and dead Potion-maker, Casimir Shingleton." He snapped the book shut with a soft thud and stared her down with a mixture of what she could only decipher as hostility and confusion. "And, pray, of what interest is what _I_ read to _you_ , Granger?" 

"Sorry, Professor, I wasn't trying to intrude; I was merely curious is all." 

"You're talking to someone of the mind, Granger, and not one of your fellow bird-brained adolescent peers. Nothing you ask is ever out of 'mere curiosity.' There's always an ulterior motive." 

Hermione could not help but crack a small smile, even if he was trying to insult her, and shifted in her chair. "I suppose you're right. Sorry, sir." 

"Stop apologizing in every other sentence, too," he hissed quietly. "It's irritating." 

Hermione fidgeted. "Sor— Very well, sir." 

Not sure of what else to say, Hermione awkwardly picked up her book again and tried to reread the sentence she had been on for the past several minutes. Unbeknownst to her, however, Snape stalked across the room without so much as a light tapping of his feet and when Hermione glanced up again, she was startled to find him standing right beside her, peering down with all the darkness and intimidation she'd grown accustomed to. 

"What is it you want, Granger?" 

The question was simple enough, but his tone was solemn and rather accusatory. Hermione swallowed and fought to remain collected. She hated how Professor Snape was still one of the few individuals in the wizarding world who could make her quiver like a first year. She had caught a glimpse of Lord Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic only a few months ago, and even then, she wasn't as bothered as she was now, looking up at the towering, cynical figure before her. 

"I..." she fumbled, and not fast enough. 

"You could have sat at any number of tables in the library tonight. There is hardly anyone here." Snape ignored her subtle attempt to scoot away from him and continued with a cold look, "You could have sought a different location when you saw me standing over there. Obviously, you wish to ask me _something_ , Granger, or else you and your little friends are stalking me again in the hopes of catching me doing something sinister; so which is it?" 

For a split second, Hermione's eyes appeared as if they were going to pop right out of their sockets, but she gathered her wits relatively quickly, a small feat that secretly impressed him. She was indeed growing up and becoming a little more confident in herself, if only just. 

"I wasn't trying to stalk you, Professor. You're right though. I - I do have a question or two. Um, it's about these dueling lessons we've been having the past several weeks..." 

"What about them?" 

"Well...why?" 

Snape blinked hard, a faint trace of surprise surfacing on his face. "I beg your pardon?" 

"Well, we already know how to duel and, no offense, but you've never been the type of teacher who goes out of his way to help his students, um, _advance_." Hermione bit her lower lip hard at that remark but pressed on, "You never have cared about students doing _well_ , so why are you spending so much time emphasizing these nonverbals and the fact that you find our skills so lacking?" 

Snape's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Hermione's silhouette anew before he answered in a monotone voice, "Because in order for you all to excel, Granger, you need to be able to properly duel and not merely at the classroom level, which is what you've all been practicing for far too long. That will not help you when you are faced head on with... Well, I think it goes without saying; you've tasted combat, Granger; you know already what I speak of. 

"If none of you can even get your reflexes up to par, I see no point in wasting my efforts trying to teach you more than just the nonverbals, especially if you'll never be able to cast them properly. I don't care whether you do well or not to receive the proper grade; that is irrelevant in the real world. I only care that you do not waste my precious time. 

Hermione felt a bit slighted and reared her head back, her wild curls sweeping off her shoulders. "We— _I_ know how to duel, Professor. I find your lack of confidence in us a bit harsh." 

" _Oh?_ " The tone was challenging, enough to egg Hermione on to delicately elaborate on her opinions. 

"You're right, sir. I've seen plenty of combat, and I've found myself in many dangerous situations, but I've survived and know what it takes—" 

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Granger," Snape interjected with a low growl that sent a shiver running through her veins. "You are living in a fantasy world. _All of you_. I would like to see you stand up to the Dark Lord or any number of his followers today, as boastfully as you so claim, and see how you fare." 

Hermione's mouth went dry. "I - I'm not trying to persuade you that I'm somehow the most capable duel master, sir. I just think—" 

"That I should give you more credit and kudos than I have?" Snape's question was overshadowed by his overt distaste at such an idea, and Hermione hardly knew how to respond, but grew a little more flustered by the direct sneer she received. 

"That's not _exactly_ what I was getting at..." 

"Then what?" 

"I - I just think you might underestimate some of us. We're not as inadequate as you think." 

"Are you suggesting that I treat you differently? That I coo at you and your classmates for your lackluster efforts when you haven't the slightest idea of just how _nightmarish_ things are going to get?" 

"You seem to have a peculiar knowing attitude about that, Professor." 

Hermione could hardly believe what she had just uttered and immediately wished she hadn't. The furious glare that formed on Snape's face told her that she had clearly overstepped her bounds. She hadn't even noticed until now that Snape was leaning down to her level and that she was backed up to the edge of her seat with nowhere to go, except down on the ground. 

"Don't _ever_ assume, Granger, that you know a single, solitary thing about me," Snape snarled, so close to her face that she could see his upper lip quivering. "You, Potter, and Weasley have made insinuations about and questioned my instruction _and_ my character to the point of exhaustion. You are far too opinionated for your own good and don't possess the slightest inkling about magic outside of what's contained in a goddamn textbook!" 

"Professor, I just—" 

"And don't interrupt me!" he spat, a flush seeping into his ashen cheeks that struck Hermione's nerves. "You may be the core link to Mr. Potter's bandwagon, but I'm not fooled by any of you. I won't give _you_ special treatment for getting yourself into dangerous scenarios, for relishing in your connections to the Boy Who Lived, or for the luck you've had when confronted by the Darks Arts in years past. 

"A word of advice, Granger: your luck will run out eventually. You won't always have each other to lean on for protection and when you stand on that battlefield alienated and alone, what you learned in a textbook won't suffice to make a move, let alone stay alive long enough to raise your wand and defend yourself accordingly. Don't ever overestimate yourself, nor underestimate the abilities of others. You may be clever, my dear, but even _you_ aren't _that_ all-knowing." 

Hermione, stunned and entirely incapacitated, could only stare at Snape with her mouth hanging limp. She gawked at the elusive, strange, and very bitter man who was now very much invading her personal space. She scanned the angry contortions of his face, which, at this proximity, were rather brutal and almost hurt to behold. The burning flames behind the depths of his eyes, however, were what startled Hermione the most, what left her bereft of air. Though colorless and seemingly lifeless from afar, from this close they showed something palpable that normally lay buried beneath the darkness; they were like cracked windows, if only one dared to dig deep enough to really see. 

Just as Hermione was finding her breath again, the overwhelming black irises blinked, and the window that would have led her deeper into their depths was abruptly slammed in her face, replaced by the blank stare and frigidness she was so accustomed to. Snape quickly backed away from her and straightened up, peering down with the same intimidating air he had illustrated earlier, and Hermione couldn't move. She didn't dare. Her heart was beating fast and her mind was a blur, trying to make sense of the insults and sharp words he'd just spat at her. 

When Hermione finally mustered the courage to stir, she realized that Professor Snape was gone. He had probably been gone for several minutes while she sat at the edge of her chair, staring stupidly into the ether and chewing over the man's words. 

_'Your luck will run out eventually.'_

Was that a promise, or a warning? No longer able to study as she had initially planned, Hermione grabbed her textbook and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, unaware that she was running at full speed with her head hung low the whole way there. 

* * *

Hermione stewed over Snape's vindictive accusations for the rest of the evening and into the following day. It was Saturday, and while most of the school was enjoying their weekend, if only temporarily before succumbing to homework, Hermione was too busy playing over much of what her D.A.D.A. instructor had insinuated about her.

 _As if I would purposely go out of my way to get into trouble! Where did he get_ that _impression? I don't relish the attention that comes with being Harry's friend! And how dare he assume everything we've overcome was all thanks to luck and not skill! I'm not a delinquent and I'm certainly not inadequate!_

Hermione folded her arms firmly across her chest and tapped her foot on the floor as she sat on the couch in the deserted common room, staring into the roaring fire place without blinking. She had been sitting there for most of the morning, even skipping out on breakfast with Harry and Ginny. 

Around lunch time, Harry returned, only to find Hermione in the same spot where he had left her. Ron quickly moseyed away, locked hand-in-hand with Lavender, but Harry wandered over and took a seat next to his friend on the couch, eying her curiously. 

"'Mione?" 

"Snape's an arse!" 

"Come again?" 

"I was in the library last night—" 

"On a Friday?" When Hermione proceeded to glower at Harry, he leaned back with a wry smile. "Sorry, I should know by now that that's where you'd be." 

" _As I was saying_ ," Hermione sniped, choosing to ignore Harry's remark, "I was in the library and Snape was there, and when I asked him about why we're still practicing all these duels in class—" 

"You questioned him on that, 'Mione?" Harry stared at her with raised eyebrows. 

"Yes, I did, and he proceeded to tell me how everything we've ever done in the past was luck. Granted, I know it partly _was_ , but not _entirely!_ And he claimed that _I_ take pleasure in the attention that comes with being your friend, which I don't, and that you, Ron, and I go out of our way to garner attention from everyone! Honestly! The nerve of that foul man, after everything we've been through!" 

"'Mione," Harry replied tentatively, "you know these are all accusations we've dealt with before." 

"I know, I know, but it doesn't change the fact that it still infuriates me! I've never had someone say it to my face and do so with such malicious intent!" 

To her surprise, Harry started chuckling softly. "'Mione, _it's Snape_. What did you expect him to say? Why would you ever think he'd give us any credit at all? He hates us. Well, he really hates me, and you and Ron by association." 

"Ugh, I don't know! But it's bugging the hell out of me! I've never been so hated by someone—a teacher—in all my life!" 

"Is that what this is about? Not being the teacher's favorite?" 

"No..." 

"'Mione, there's no need to go out of your way to prove yourself to Snape. He's the last person you should strive to please. Nothing _any_ Gryffindor does will ever be good enough in that slimy sod's eyes. It's a waste of your time and energy." 

"I know, I know," she sighed, collapsing against the back of the couch. "I kind of made the mistake of making the conjecture that he's associated with..." 

Her voice trailed off, unable to complete her sentence, and Harry perked up and inclined towards her with interest. " _You did?_ " 

"Yeah... That's kind of what set him on a rage about how inadequate we all are." 

"I would have loved to see his reaction," Harry snickered. 

Hermione didn't answer. She uncrossed her arms and dropped her head, more than a little put out. She hated that someone else's opinion of her brought out such insecurity from within. Severus Snape hardly deserved her feeling this way, and she secretly berated herself for letting _him_ , of all people, get to her so easily. 

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione spoke up with resolution and declared, "I'm going to go tell him he's wrong." 

"What?" 

Hermione unlocked her legs and stood up, her hands now clenched into fists. "I'm not a misfit. None of us are. It's about time Snape stopped giving us a hard time and got a taste of his own medicine. I'm going to prove him wrong!" 

Without so much as an explanation, Hermione stomped out of the common room, leaving a stunned Harry alone by the fireplace. After a moment, Harry's mind and body came together in sync, and he dashed out of the common room after his good friend who was about to make a really bad mistake. When he entered the abandoned hallway, however, Hermione was gone, probably already on the first floor in search of their nasty, menacing professor, a man who would surely show her no mercy for what she was about to do. 

_Shit._


	5. The Snake vs. the Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 5: The Snake vs. the Lion**

Severus had been laboring over his third and fifth years' mediocre essays since the early hours of the morning. As usual, he lacked a full night's rest and even though his body was becoming sluggish and his eyes were growing heavy, he kept on grading, scrawling furiously over the parchment in front of him with that infamous red ink. He knew that as tired as he was, he wouldn't fall asleep anyhow. Too many years spent as an insomniac slammed such hopes into the ground. 

After finishing the last of the essays, he glanced over at a clock at the opposite end of his office. It was nearly noon. Realizing that he hadn't had breakfast, Severus carefully stood and stretched his limbs, yawning long and deep as he threw his quill down into its holder. He was starving and in desperate need of some coffee if he had a prayer of making it through the rest of the day. There was no telling when he would be summoned again—either by Dumbledore or the Dark Lord—and if he were to get any peace at all this weekend, Severus hoped he would at least have enough time for a warm lunch. 

Severus was just about to make his way towards the door when he heard a voice calling to him from his classroom on the lower level. He abruptly stopped and listened more carefully. The voice called again, much louder and panicked than before, so he whipped open the door without delay, prepared to find one of his Slytherins coming to him for assistance in breaking up an altercation, stopping a heated argument, or a combination of the two. If there was one thing Severus could do, it was always to look out for and protect the students in his house as much as possible. They had no one else who might come to their aid or defense, not even the Headmaster. Severus had learned that sour reality a long time ago. 

Severus halted half way down the staircase when he spotted an unexpected face: Hermione Granger. And she looked positively furious. 

"What the...?" he mumbled under his breath. 

"I need to talk to you," she demanded, sounding much more assertive than when he had confronted her in the library the night before. 

Severus sighed irritably and adjusted a few buttons on his frock coat as he reached the bottom of the stairs, strutting towards her with his robes flaring out dramatically. Hermione took a step back but kept her arms crossed, trying to stare him down as best she could. By the time he was directly in front of her, however, she found her confidence waning. 

Severus was considerably taller than her, for one, but his menacing sneer and piercing glare were what made him so formidable and unapproachable to all, including her. "What is the meaning of this, Granger?" he whispered heatedly. "I am on my way elsewhere and cannot be bothered with giving you extra credit, if that's what you're after." 

"No, that's not it!" 

"Then what?" 

Hermione gulped, trying to remember why she had come. "I - I was thinking about what you said in the library last night." 

A flicker of bright light danced across Severus's eyes. "And?" 

"And it was completely uncalled for and out of line!" 

" _What?_ " 

"Harry, Ron, and I have gone through some very difficult trials, sir! What you said was not only insulting but incredibly hurtful! You insinuated several things about us—about _me_ —that simply aren't true!" 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" he snarled, fully exasperated and rolling his eyes. "Is _that_ what you came to pester me about, Granger? Your character? Find someone else to relay this to—perhaps Rita Skeeter at _The Daily Prophet_ —and leave me alone!" 

Hermione's mouth fell open. "How dare you!" she sputtered, before she could stop herself, her emotions unraveling fast. 

"Don't test me, Granger. Get out of my way." 

"You think you can just waltz around insulting me just because I'm younger than you and less experienced? You have _no idea_ what I've been through, or how I feel!" 

Severus was admittedly caught off his guard. The distraught, yet strong, young woman before him was hardly recognizable when compared to the meek, buck-toothed, bushy-haired youngster she'd once been. 

A wave of emotion passed over Severus's pallid face before he recomposed his mask, doing his best to ignore the evident pain in Hermione's eyes. "Excuse me," he breathed testily, as he brushed past her in haste. 

"NO!" Hermione cried out. "You don't get to belittle me like that without hearing me out!" 

The slamming of the open D.A.D.A. door reverberated around the eerily repressive, quiet room. Severus whipped his head around in alarm, and was met with Hermione's unsteady wand pointed directly at his face. 

" _Granger!_ " he growled dangerously, drawing himself up like an enraged lion ready to pounce. "Just what do you think you're doing?" 

"Try me!" she bated, though her voice was wavering. "Go on!" 

"What?" 

"Round two!" 

Realizing what she was after, Severus's eyes darkened, putting Hermione's stomach in knots. "You have no idea what you're asking for..." 

"Yes I do! G - Go ahead! Test me! You caught me unprepared before, which was _your_ advantage, so go on, make a fool out of me! _Prove me wrong!_ " 

To her surprise, the powerful wizard did not immediately draw his wand but slowly cocked his head to one side, his black eyes scrutinizing her very closely. She had no idea if it was out of intrigue or amusement. After an agonizing pause, however, he did withdraw his wand from somewhere underneath his robes. Hermione immediately stiffened as the Head of Slytherin House contorted his body rather gracefully into a dueling stance for her. His left arm was raised from behind, the right holding his instrument straight out, his knees slightly bent and his waist tilted to one side. His face was unnervingly calm, every shred of his being completely under some kind of indescribable magical control. 

_This was a mistake_ , Hermione thought fleetingly as her heart started to race. _Hermione, you fool..._

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Severus's nostrils flared and his pupils dilated, as if he had intuitively read her mind; then he cast a series of hexes so fast, Hermione barely could comprehend what was happening. She fought and blocked and ducked, sending only a handful of nonverbals back. The hexes just kept coming, unceasing, and each seemingly more powerful than the last. 

There was no sense of time, no comprehension of what was being cast, though there were a handful of hexes that Hermione had never seen before in her life. Then, caught up in the frenzy, having never dueled with someone of this power in her life, a stunning spell hit her in the stomach and sent her toppling onto the floor, knocking the wind out of her. 

Everything was black for a moment, until Hermione realized that there was, in actuality, a dark figure towering over her: Severus Snape. His robes fell down to her eye level like a cascading waterfall, his long hair shaping the frame of his strikingly high cheekbones, hooked nose, and strong jaw line. 

When he kneeled down before her, Hermione flinched and brought her wand to her chest. It suddenly dawned on her that she was breathing heavily whilst her teacher didn't appear to be experiencing the slightest bit of exhaustion. She swallowed at receiving his icy glare, now too close for comfort, and felt her spine shiver as his cold eyes bore into hers. 

"I..." she started, but Severus's sharp hiss frightened her into submission. 

"Detention, Granger," he drawled, every syllable acute, "until Christmas break." He paused, watching her warm eyes swirl and her pink lips tremble. "Don't ever test me like that again, you foolish girl, or you'll regret it." 

It would take a buffoon not to pick up on the dangerous promise in Severus's threat and Hermione remained pinned to the floor, unable to move or even shake her head in accordance to his wishes. Severus seemed to take her silence as confirmation that she would obey and rose, drifting away out of sight without another word. 

Hermione waited for his footsteps to die away before she finally sat up, her wild curls repositioning themselves against gravity, and gawked at the empty, open doorway, entirely breathless. _I can't believe I just did that..._

* * *

Hermione went searching for Harry after her combat with Snape, fully prepared to not find him, thinking he would probably be with Ron as usual. But to her much needed relief, she found him sans Ron in the Great Hall, eating a late lunch with Neville and Luna. The Great Hall was virtually deserted, another stroke of good luck, so Hermione rushed in and plopped herself down, relaying the whole incident to them without taking a moment for air.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione!" Harry gasped, as he and the others ogled her with their mouths hanging open. 

"I know," she groaned miserably. "I don't know what I was thinking. I must be completely mental." 

"That's for sure!" Neville muttered, stunned, his half-eaten scone dangling from his hand. 

"I - I was just so infuriated!" 

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over the past few weeks. There was the shock of Ron going out with Lavender, not having had Harry for regular company anymore since he started hanging out with Ginny more often, increased feelings of isolation, loneliness, and anger at the world and herself, unfamiliar, new questions about her self-image and self-worth... 

As Hermione reflected over these changes, she quickly realized that all her bent up feelings had only been exasperated by Snape's comments, nothing more. She and her friends had been the target of unfriendly gossip for years. Why was what Professor Snape said about her any different? 

Hermione ran her fingers over her soft curls and gulped. "Snape is the last person I should have ever pissed off..." 

Though not realizing she had expressed that thought aloud, there was an echo of agreement around the table. Harry shook his head, giving her a sincere look of empathy. "Your life's going to be miserable for the next month, 'Mione. By the time Christmas rolls around, you'll be as grumpy as the old bat." 

"Thanks a lot!" 

"Well, it's true. Trust me, _I know_." 

"Yes, I know you do," she sighed, placing her chin in her palm. 

Suddenly, Luna asked breathlessly, "What was it like?" Her blue eyes were somewhat unfocused as she stared at Hermione, waiting for an answer. 

"Sorry?" 

"What was it like to duel Snape? I've often wondered. He's _so_ fast. Quickest reflexes I've ever seen. I don't know another wizard who matches him." 

"Dumbledore's about as quick as they come." 

Harry sounded somewhat slighted, even resentful, but Luna didn't seem to pick up on his tone. "Yes, I'm sure he is," she replied airily, "though, I must say, I find it very hard to believe anyone could top Snape. Makes you think, doesn't it?" 

Everyone stared at her, befuddled as they always were by the Ravenclaw's strange bouts of commentary. Finally, Neville spoke up, "Um, think about what?" 

"How dangerous Snape really is..." 

At this, there was a long, drawn out pause. No one said a word for a time, and only Harry and Hermione locked eyes with each other. Knowing their past run-ins with the terribly cunning Slytherin, there was no mistaking Luna's valid observation. 

Hermione shifted the topic back to her ghastly blunder, however, and broke the silence with a whine. "Ugh, how could I be so stupid?" 

"Well, look at the bright side," Neville offered, and everyone gave him a perplexed look, "this could be your opportunity to prod Snape for details about which side he's on." 

Hermione's eyes widened. "You've got to be joking, Neville." 

"Hang on," Harry chimed in with a wicked smile. "That's brilliant, Neville!" 

" _What?_ " Hermione's mouth dropped. "Harry, you can't be serious!" 

"Why not? You've already pissed him off, and you'll be serving detention for a while anyhow; might as well make the most of it. And if anyone could ever get Snape to confide anything, it would probably be you." 

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" 

"You're probably the only student bright enough to keep up with him, Hermione," said Neville, with a crooked, kindhearted grin. "You could probably trick him into talking without him realizing it. None of us could." 

"Oh, come off it, Neville. That's impossible, and you know it. No one trumps Snape." 

Neville shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right, but like Harry said, _you_ could at least get him talking. None of us would stand a chance." 

"Well, thanks for the compliment, but I'd really prefer _not_ to talk to Snape anymore than is necessary. I don't need to have him put me in detention for the rest of the school year. The man's so..." 

"Awful?" Harry snickered, as he and Neville began bantering back and forth. 

"Spiteful?" 

"Conceited?" 

"Greasy?" 

"Nasty?" 

"Foul?" 

"A total git?" 

"All right, all right," Hermione conceded, laughing for the first time since the incident, grateful to feel her rattled nerves lifting a bit. "You've made your point." 

"Sorry, Hermione." Neville eyed her with the greatest sympathy. Having been one of the primary targets of the professor's verbal attacks on Gryffindor House since year one, Hermione knew where Neville's empathy was coming from. 

"Me, too," she mumbled, back to feeling just as unhappy as before. 

Neville and Luna finished up their lunch and headed out to the courtyard, but Harry and Hermione remained. Harry was still in shock over what his close friend had done, but seeing how depressed she was, he tried to remain as upbeat about the matter as possible. But even he knew that nothing involving Snape was cheerful. _Ever_. 

"Well, I know one person besides me who will be really, really pleased with what you did." 

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "Who's that?" 

"Ron." 

As the realization hit, she gave Harry a contented smirk. After a short pause, she asked, "Any idea how his detentions with Snape are going?" 

"Awful, apparently. He hasn't said much, as a matter of fact." 

"Well, I would expect nothing less. How's his nose?" 

"Ugly as sin. You didn't notice this morning when he came into the common room with Lavender?" 

"No," Hermione confessed, disappointed. "I was a bit lost in my thoughts." 

"Well, his nose is fractured in two places." 

" _Really?_ " 

"Yeah. I may not care at all for the man, but I have to hand it to Snape. The git knows how to throw a punch." 

Thinking over vividly of Ron with a battered nose—something she knew would be far less appealing to Lavender Brown—Hermione couldn't help but grin again. _At least_ some _satisfaction can come from all this..._

* * *

"This is a wonderful opportunity, Severus," said Dumbledore, with that same twinkle in his eyes he so often bestowed when he was implying more than whatever was being uttered. He watched Severus pace back and forth before him, his black robes waving like a flag as he moved silently across the floor, his face contorted in agony.

"I don't approve of this, Albus!" He whipped his head towards the Headmaster, who was seated at his desk, his hands propped together. "I've told you repeatedly that we shouldn't let any of them interfere, least of all _her!_ " 

"Why her in particular, Severus?" 

"Because she's far too confident and hot headed!" 

"That's a lie, and you know it. She's the brightest, Severus, that is why, and the most reliable of any student at that. I also think you underestimate Miss Granger's abilities." 

"Hardly!" Severus snapped, as he continued to pace. 

"Well, in any case, I told you before that the time is absolutely crucial, and now Miss Granger will be serving detentions with you. Now we needn't come up with a more elaborate method of instruction. I trust you to make the most of it." 

Severus growled his noncompliance and halted before Dumbledore's desk, staring down at him with a dark scowl, as if he were truly in pain. "Why are you doing this to me, Albus?" 

His soft, sore tone seemed to surprise the Headmaster, who leaned forward in his chair. "I am not trying to make things more difficult for you, Sev—" 

" _Really?_ " He straightened his shoulders. "I find that hard to believe!" 

"Severus, need I remind you that _you_ agreed to this?" Dumbledore's response was patient but assertive, and it made Severus's upper lip curl back in disgust. "Working with Miss Granger is not the most trying thing in the world. It is of little importance when you consider what you _will_ have to do—eventually, that is..." 

Severus's eyes sharpened and he took a calculated breath before replying, "I would rather you brought Minerva into this mess than involve a seventeen-year-old, Albus. This could be catastrophic if she cracks. Won't these students be subjected to enough once matters turn?" 

"You mean to tell me you actually _care_ about the welfare of the students?" Albus teased, giving Severus a childish grin that made Severus's stomach churn unpleasantly. 

"Must everything I say be a joke to you?" 

Albus's smile quickly evaporated, his wrinkled face turning grave in a flash. "I didn't mean it like that, Severus. Forgive me. _Of course_ I understand your reservations, and you make very valid points, but we have already decided not to bring Minerva into these affairs. We decided that years ago. Things are in motion now that cannot be undone. 

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are closest to Harry. Therefore, it has to be one of them. We made our pick, and you have to go through with it. There's nothing more to discuss." 

Severus snapped his head around and swiftly exited Dumbledore's office without another word, his boots pounding along the stone floors to illustrate the sheer magnitude of his fury at the plan in motion. 

* * *

Hermione made her way to the D.A.D.A. classroom the following Saturday with the utmost reluctance. She had tried to implore Professor McGonagall to make her punishment with the Head of Slytherin House less severe, knowing it probably wouldn't work in her favor. And, alas, it didn't.

 _"Miss Granger, I'm quite shocked by what you did! Nothing—with, perhaps, the exception of one of the Unforgivable Curses being performed upon a student—gives a pupil the right to attack a teacher. You are certainly the very last person I would expect to behave in such a manner! I'm disappointed. You_ will _serve detention with Professor Snape every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday until Christmas break, and that's final. I take it you've learned from this?"_

_"Yes, Professor."_

Hermione hadn't relayed the details of what Severus said that caused her to react the way she had, but then she also disliked others fighting her battles for her. She was a true Gryffindor at heart, and if she couldn't stand up for herself, no one else would. Certainly not Ron, and maybe not even Harry on occasion. 

Hermione gulped as she reached the heavy oak door that would lead her inside. _What a dreadful waste of a Saturday, and for six weeks! Damn it, Hermione!_

Hermione poked her head inside, surveying the darkened room apprehensively. Even on the weekends, the room evidently didn't improve. Snape still never opened the shutters and kept the place purposely dreary and morbid. 

_Just like himself._

Hermione didn't spot Snape at first, but heard his silky-smooth baritone across the room, the sudden sound of his address making her jump, "Come in, Miss Granger." 

Snape appeared as if from nowhere, emerging from the shadows where only his face was distinguishable. The rest of him blended into the background like a moody Baroque painting. His eyes were as dark and inscrutable as ever, his skin glowing with an unnaturally whitened hue, and he stood rigidly with his hands hidden behind his back, watching and waiting for her in a chilly silence.


	6. Vows of Selflessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: My apologies for the delay in getting new chapters up. I had a death in the family back in August and, since then, updating on other archives has taken a back seat. I will try to make more timely updates from now on!**
> 
> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

**Chapter 6: Vows of Selflessness**

Hermione was beginning to grow agitated. Though she still found Severus Snape intimidating beyond measure, his scare tactics were becoming a waste of their time. He had been circling her for nearly a half hour, staring her down with those fiercely guarded eyes of his, without uttering a single word to her.

Every so often, Hermione chanced saying something to him, but he quickly shot her down with a snide remark, so Hermione gave up and stared at the array of potions ingredients on a nearby table, as well as a large cauldron that softly simmered and steamed, permeating the air with a peculiar scent she couldn't identify. She hadn't noticed that he was in the midst of brewing until she had fully entered the room. How he could work in such darkness was beyond her.

Finally, Snape broke the silence in a low, gruff voice. "You know why you're here, Granger?"

"Yes, sir." She paused. "Though I still think what I did was partly justified."

Snape stopped circling her and narrowed his eyes. She suspected he would be taken aback by her response and that somewhat pleased her. " _Justified?_ " he repeated angrily.

"Well, you did purposely catch me off guard the first time you dueled me in class, so I hardly see how that was fair to begin with, and then to insult me in the manner that you did was exceptionally crass and unprofessional. I know it's something you regularly do, but it wasn't called for, and I'd had enough. I shouldn't have drawn my wand on you, Professor. I know that now, and I apologize for my lapse of judgment. But you weren't entirely in the right either."

Snape was admittedly dazed by this but gathered himself too swiftly for Hermione to notice. His moves were so subtle that, if not seen at a close enough proximity, one might think the man had no emotional range whatsoever.

"You are out of line _again_ , Granger."

"Am I?"

" _Yes!_ " he spat louder than he had meant to. Hermione startled and immediately fidgeted with her hands as he continued, "I will not get into the manner with which I addressed you. I am your superior and your instructor. If you have a problem with that, you will just have to stew over your misfortunes in private. You're not here to be coddled, cooed over, and given a pat on the back every time you give a mechanical answer that stems directly from a textbook. Until you learn to think for yourself, to apply your full range and _listen_ to what I have to tell you, you are a waste of my efforts."

Hermione projected a blank stare at the professor for a time. She didn't really know how to respond. His words were harsh, direct, and seemingly without feeling or much regard.

"Yes, sir," she whispered at last, resolving not to argue. For now.

"Very well. Since you will regretfully be taking up the majority of my Saturdays for the next month and a half, I intend to make use of you while you are in my hands."

Hermione's eyebrows came together. "Sir?"

Snape did not answer but instead stomped back to the potion he was brewing. He picked up a thick textbook from one of his working tables and brought it over to Hermione, shoving it forcefully into her hands.

"I want you to research whatever you can on Five-Finger Grass. I want to determine _all_ of its possible uses, and, more importantly, I wish to know how it was used, successfully or not, by other Potion-makers in combination with other medical ingredients."

"Five-Finger Grass?" Hermione turned over the book in her hands and surveyed the title: _Madame Bedgeberry's Book of Herbs and Their Meticulous Uses._ A trigger of their former conversation in the library came back to her, and she scrutinized him more carefully. "That's used in Blood-Replenishing, isn't it?"

Snape simply nodded and returned to the bubbling cauldron, stirring it elegantly with a wave of his wrist a few times before he addressed her again. "I presume you brought your quill and parchment?"

"Um, yes, Professor, but what does this have to do with—"

"That's none of your concern, Granger. Do as I ask." He gave a curt nod in the direction of a large stack of disheveled books in the corner. "There are plenty more there to further your investigation. I checked them out of the library yesterday. I expect you to go through every one of them and demand that you be thorough in your findings."

Realizing that such a tedious task would easily take up the remainder of her day in detention, Hermione grumbled an irritable "Fine," and wandered to a desk at the front of the room. She took a seat and began to read, every now and then peering up at Severus as he worked rather relentlessly, without breaks or a shift in focus.

Hermione had never realized just how quiet the Potions Master was. _No wonder he was able to creep up on her and her friends so unexpectedly._ His tall, lanky frame hardly made a sound as he alternated between his working station and the cauldron. Every move was precise, delicate, and after some time, Hermione found herself completely distracted and enraptured by his movements and what he was doing.

As Snape stirred the undisclosed potion and added various contents to the process, he would repeatedly raise his hand and other ingredients would either levitate into his grasp or make their way into the brew on their own. When he was at his working bench, he would physically grind leaves, whilst his mind severed bark and twigs with a blade or poured liquids together to make a fresh ingredient. At any given moment, Snape performed several tasks simultaneously, and yet, there was no chaos or confusion to his method of working. He was careful, clean, and moved about quite gracefully and unimpaired, which Hermione found astounding. It was almost like a dance.

 _So_ this _is the difference between a Potions Apprentice and a Potions Master..._

Hermione admittedly didn't care much for the subject, but she did exceedingly well on her O.W.L.s and received a gracious Outstanding from the professor. It was a surprise, to say the least; however, he was still exceedingly critical of her, so it was little wonder she didn't express much interest.

Hermione found a peculiarity in watching Snape practicing Potion-making in an entirely different setting, even though the atmosphere was still as gloomy as ever. For years, his home had been the dungeons, and if Hermione and her friends ever spotted him brewing, which was a rarity in itself, it was in that unfriendly part of the castle where no one really cared to venture.

As she observed his work, Hermione found herself wondering if the man missed his old dwellings, or if he preferred being where he was now. After all, it wasn't a secret that Severus Snape had desired the D.A.D.A. post for years, but Hermione couldn't help but sense something off kilter about the professor here. It didn't entirely seem to suit him; or perhaps she just wasn't used to seeing him in new settings.

"Granger, I fail to see how watching me work will help in aiding my research." Hermione jerked in her chair. Severus wasn't even looking at her. His back was turned to her as he stirred the pot and levitated two small jars towards the cauldron. "Get back to work."

"Sorry, sir," she replied, embarrassed at having been caught staring again. Just as she was about to reread the paragraph she was on, she chanced another quick glance. "May I ask what you're working on?"

"You may not," he drawled lazily, not with bitterness, but without much interest in sharing.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed loud enough for Snape to hear, returning to her assignment. After a few minutes, Snape slowly turned around to survey the young lady, now seated quietly with her head down, puzzled by how forthright she was turning out to be.

Snape couldn't make much sense of the girl. He had never taken a liking to her as a student, but there was an indisputable shift happening in her; perhaps it had begun over the summer months, but he didn't know. One thing was certain: Hermione Granger was turning into a stronger and seemingly more self-assured young woman than Snape would ever have guessed. He couldn't pinpoint how or when this transformation had begun, and he was far too busy to remember or focus on such trivial observations; however, she certainly wasn't the same Gryffindor from last year or from any year before. _Something_ in her had changed, and Snape hadn't decided yet whether it was for the better or not.

By the late afternoon, and after a half hour break for lunch, Hermione had successfully skimmed through two very thick books on herbs and had at least a dozen notes to her credit. She had no grasp on what the Potions Master was looking for, but she hoped he would be satisfied, nevertheless.

Snape had brewed several potions throughout the day as she read, and Hermione couldn't help but be impressed by how swift, orderly and dedicated he was. Granted, he looked fairly drained by the time she finished with her note-taking, but he showed no indication of stopping anytime soon.

Realizing he wasn't going to dismiss her, Hermione finally approached his work bench and cleared her throat. "Professor?"

"What?" he replied without regard.

"May I be excused?"

Snape turned to her and blinked hard. For a moment, he seemed to be lost in a daze or, she suspected, his work. But then reality of the time set in on his worn features, and he frowned a little deeper. "Your notes?" he demanded, putting his stirring rod aside.

Hermione held out several pieces of parchment for him to take, which he scrutinized without saying anything. Then, at last, he peered up at her, and Hermione could detect the weariness that lingered behind the black eyes. She almost felt sorry for him, but it was a passing emotion.

"Very well. You may go, Miss Granger."

"Will they do?" she pressed quietly, though she hadn't a clue why. She was as desperate as any Gryffindor to get away from the man.

Snape hesitated, his pale brow furrowing as he stared at her with more focus. "Yes," he said after a moment, "they are satisfactory." He turned away and returned to his potion, leaving her standing before him rather stupidly.

Hermione gathered up her belongings and exited the classroom, relieved that it was over, but more irritated than ever. If every detention was going to be this painful, it would be a terribly long, grueling few weeks till Christmas.

* * *

"So did you go to the library like I asked?" Hermione demanded when she got back to the common room, spotting Harry seated at a table going over some new Quidditch maneuvers.

"'Mione, it _is_ the weekend, you know." She gave a theatrical roll of her eyes and plopped down beside him. "How did it go with Snape?"

"Dreadful."

Harry snorted and glanced over his Quidditch notes. "I figured as much. What'd he have you do? Write 'I will not hex the Bat of the Dungeons' one hundred thousand times on the blackboard?"

"No, but I daresay I'd have rather done that than what he assigned me with. I had to look up a particular herb for him and takes notes on what I found that _might_ be of benefit to him. Several books' worth."

Harry's green eyes darted to hers, intrigued. "Really? What for?"

"His research; what he mentioned in the library that I told you about. Five-Finger Grass."

"Oh. Sounds appropriately dull, just like the old sod. What did he do? Did he leave you alone at least?"

"Most of the time, yes, which I'm grateful for. He brewed potions the entire day and was still working on one when I left. He allowed me a thirty minute break for lunch, but he just kept working. He doesn't really take breaks, actually."

"Well, what else is he going to do?" Harry asked with a chuckle. "Talk to the walls? Go for a casual stroll around the castle? The man has no social life, 'Mione; it's no wonder he's a workaholic."

"True." Hermione found that notion about the professor rather sad, but Harry didn't seem to think much on it. "So, where's Ginny? And Ron?"

"Ginny's hanging with a few of her friends and Ron... Well, I'm sure you can guess who he's with."

"I don't care," Hermione replied testily, and a small smile escaped Harry's lips that he quickly tried to subdue.

When Hermione spotted a familiar piece of parchment spread out next to Harry's Quidditch notes, she inched closer. "Why do you have the Marauder's Map out?" Hermione fought with her conscious not to search the map for Ron's and Lavender's names.

"Draco," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"You're not still convinced he's a Death Eater, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Harry turned to her, his cheeks reddening. "He's up to something, 'Mione, I know it. Snape is too, but Snape's _always_ up to something."

Hermione decided not to push either of those subjects and diverged to another topic. "Any luck with Slughorn?"

"No. Whatever Dumbledore wants me to find out, it has something to do with Voldemort, but I haven't the slightest idea. Do you?"

Hermione had thought over the matter long and hard for the past month but had drawn no conclusions. She shook her curly, chestnut locks and offered an apologetic look. Harry simply went back to what he was doing, allowing Hermione to reflect upon her god-awful day in silence.

"Half-Blood Prince," she murmured aloud after a while. Harry peered over at her, waiting for her to finish her thought. "I wish we had something to go on besides that young woman's name in the book..."

"It's still bugging you that much?"

"Doesn't it interest you anymore?"

"Sure, it does."

"But you're going to leave _me_ to figure it out on my own, aren't you?" She stared him down, but Harry just gave her a wide grin that spread from ear to ear.

"You're the brightest, remember?"

* * *

Severus folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the blond Slytherin whom he had known since well before Hogwarts, since infancy, in fact. Draco appeared relatively put out and tired, which Severus noted immediately upon the boy's sluggish entrance into his classroom that evening. His complexion was whiter than usual as he stared up at his godfather, his face mangled by fear. It reminded Severus a little too much of himself at Draco's age, and the reflection was more unsettling than the boy could possibly comprehend.

"Draco, you _must_ give me more information. This won't do."

"I'd rather not. Let me make some more headway and then I'll let you know—"

"No," said Severus, his command stern.

"But—"

"If I am summoned before the Dark Lord this very night, he will want a progress report on you, Draco. What shall I tell him? That you refuse to tell me anything, and are thereby withholding information from the Dark Lord? If I tell him I have _nothing_ , Draco, it won't be just my head on the chopping block. _You_ and your family will be his next targets, I can assure you."

Draco twitched nervously and ran his fingers through his thick locks. "Um," he stumbled weakly, "well, I did manage to transfer an apple to Borgin and Burke's and back, but..."

"Go on."

"It wasn't a complete success..."

Severus didn't speak for a time; instead, he stared at the sixth year as if he were peering straight through him to his very soul. Even Draco found his godfather quite intimidating most of the time. He knew Severus was an exceptional mind reader—a highly gifted Legilimens _and_ Occlumens—but his moves were so often undetectable that Draco couldn't be sure when Severus was invading his mind or not. Even with his Aunt Bellatrix teaching him a bit of Occlumency herself, Draco lacked the proper skills and suspected his godfather of being able to read him anyhow.

"Draco," Severus finally muttered after a pause, his voice quieter than before, "if you need my assistance—"

"No! I'm fine! I already told you before—"

"Make no mistake, Draco, if you fail, there will be consequences. It won't be a mere slap on the wrist, and I won't be able to protect you."

"I know! And I told you before, I don't need protection!" Draco's face lost what little color remained, and he abruptly turned away from Severus and sprinted out of the room.

"Draco!" Severus called after him, but it was too late. The boy was gone.

Severus heaved a weighty sigh and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, suddenly drained of what little energy he had left. It had been a long, trying weekend—nothing out of the ordinary—and Severus concluded that he would just have to muster some vitality and soldier through the night as usual. He had a pile of papers to grade and other important matters to put into motion. Sleep would have to wait.

Retreating to his office, Severus took out a small phial from his personal storage cabinet of potions and downed the liquid in one gulp. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and allowed the medicine to enter his system, feeling the remedy take hold. It went first into his bloodstream, then to every muscle in his sore body, and then straight to his tattered nerves.

Taking several deep breaths, Severus opened his eyes as his body adjusted, now much calmer than before. _This all will be the death of me_ , he dismissed with a frustrated snarl. _Just as well..._

As he strolled around his desk to take a seat in his leather-bound chair, he caught sight of Hermione Granger's handwriting. He hadn't looked over her notes thoroughly yet, but now that he finally had a moment to himself, Severus read through each page carefully. His expression shifted slightly into one of favorable impression.

 _Well, well, I'm not surprised. At least I can count on her to take more thorough notes than any of the others and to follow my instructions, when she chooses to listen._ While he was through rummaging through the notes, Severus collapsed against the back of his chair and allowed his mind to drift. _Hermione Granger... That insufferable girl. Dumbledore better be right about her, or we are all done for..._

* * *

The following Monday evening, Hermione was given the same task of looking up ingredients related to the Blood-Replenishing Potion. As cross as she was, she was at least grateful to only have a four hour detention, instead of the usual entire Saturday. By Wednesday evening, her clever mind was growing increasingly more curious. Snape never made a point of answering what little questions she proposed, but Hermione decided to keep up the pursuit. If she was going to spend so much time with the nasty man, whom she still felt she didn't know at all after six long years, then Hermione would, as Neville said, 'try to make the most of it.'

"Sir?" she inquired the following Saturday, after a very long period of silence.

Snape glanced up at her from his note-taking at his desk, his dark eyes listless. "What is it, Granger?"

"The antidote that you wish to add to this potion..."

He squinted, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm curious to know what it is. You've been very vague about all this."

"Of what interest is my research to you?" he shot back, though the address was a little less abrasive than usual.

Hermione seized this subdued alteration in his character as her opportunity. "Well, since I'm aiding you in your research for the time being, and if it's not too much of a bother, I'd like to know more. I did well enough on my O.W.L.s, sir, as you know, so you wouldn't have to explain it to me in layman's terms."

Hermione tried to sound both respectful and interested, and Snape seemed to be either contemplating the matter or searching for something rude to return her inquiry with. Hermione wasn't sure which, so she waited. Snape held her gaze for an extended period of silence, a trait Hermione was relatively used to by now. The wizard was always in complete control, never out of sync with his mind or his mouth. When he finally responded, his voice did not carry the dryness it usually bore.

"It's anti-venom." Hermione hadn't expected that answer and her look of confusion was a giveaway, so Severus expanded further, "Ever since Nagini's bite nearly killed Arthur Weasley last year, I have been researching an improved antidote that can combat the venom more effectively. The most practical but also most beneficial two that aid in the healing process of a snake bite, Blood-Replenishing and Strengthening Solution, are also quite dangerous when mixed; however, they are much more effective than any other two medical combinations I've found. Thus, I am trying to come up with a successful solution that will combine the two when mixed with the antidote itself."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, thinking over the information she had just collected, "and so the ingredients you've had me research...?"

"It is not enough to simply make one potion, then another, and then combine the two. Surely, you know this by now, Granger. Careful, sometimes minuscule alterations to the contents of each potion must be made in order for it to work successfully; sometimes even new ingredients must be added, which seems to be where my research is headed.

"That is why, Granger, I've had you research each ingredient extensively for me, so that I might easily track what might work, what won't, and so forth. I need all that information at my disposal together in one place, so that I do not lose my mind trying to recall something that, to you, may seem trivial and of no particular importance, but, to this potion, is the difference between success and failure."

"Oh, I see," Hermione whispered, wrapped up in Snape's words. He spoke much more passionately about Potion-making than he ever had to her knowledge before, and she found his enthusiasm rather intriguing. "Why this potion in particular?"

Snape's face froze for the first time since they had locked eyes on one another. Hermione noted the faint narrowing of his irises and the small flicker of light that swept across them before he answered quietly, "Nagini is the most dangerous, most deadly snake in the world. I would have thought the answer would be obvious."

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip, abashed at her foolishness.

 _Of course_ she should have known, but then, this was Professor Snape. He, of all people, wanted to create an antidote against the dangerous reptile of his possible former master? After all, she and most of the school were still relatively unsure whether or not Severus Snape had seen the error of his ways. _Doesn't seem like him_ , she considered, deeply puzzled.

Then Snape's ebony eyes shimmered again unexpectedly, gripping Hermione's attention, and she stared back, overtaken by their intensity. "If anyone else were unfortunate enough to be bitten by Nagini, then would it not be helpful— _clever_ even—to have an antidote on hand? Arthur Weasley is not the first to fall victim to Nagini, Miss Granger, and I daresay he will not be the last."

To this statement, a deadly silence followed. Hermione's sharp mind brooded over his explanation, but she was having trouble making sense of it all. Severus Snape was the last person one would expect to assist _anyone_. Granted, he seemed faithful enough to Professor Dumbledore, but even Hermione still had her doubts about the mysterious figure sitting across from her at his desk. There was something routinely aloof about him, in the way he walked about with blatant disregard for others. He was not the type of person she would go to if in trouble or in need of help, that's for sure.

Hermione could not contain her surprise at learning that _this_ was what Severus Snape was spending so much of his time on, and it gave her pause as she thought over his actions and his research for the rest of the evening and into the days that followed.


	7. Bewing Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 7: Brewing Ideas**

"Lucius, you continue to astound me," Lord Voldemort hissed, his voice oozing with mockery.

Lucius Malfoy, a prominent follower of the Dark Lord with long, blond locks and an arrogant smug that left the world cold, took a few steps back and lowered his steel blue eyes, unable to look his master in the face. There was no arrogance now.

Voldemort, meanwhile, reclined in an oversized armchair, with Nagini slithering up and down the curve of its spine, weaving herself around the Dark Lord's head so that she was only inches from his face. Both wizard and snake eyed Lucius without empathy or concern.

Severus kept himself at arm's length from Voldemort, his hands behind his back as he and several other Death Eaters lining the room in a circle stared at Lucius with indifference. Though he and Lucius were still somewhat close, having grown up together at Hogwarts, Severus still believed much of the trouble his old friend found himself in was of the wizard's own making. Thus, he stayed back and waited for the Dark Lord's instructions. His acute senses already suspected what was to come.

Lucius had become a heavy target of the Dark Lord's torture methods ever since he failed to obtain the Prophecy from Harry months before at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort repeatedly made him pay for his terrible blunder and it seemed tonight would be no different from any other.

"My - My Lord," Lucius stuttered, "Draco is making great strides, I - I can assure you. He - He's told me himself of his progress. Your Lordship will be pleased, I pro - promise you."

Voldemort said nothing, only surveyed Lucius pitilessly. Then he called out rather lazily, "Severus." The somber professor stepped forward, mechanically peering down at the evil man.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Tell Lucius what you reported to me before his arrival."

Lucius's eyes sparked when they met Severus's, only to find no mercy in his old classmate's expression. "Draco informed me nearly a week ago that he has not made much progress, but that he wants more time."

Severus didn't want to speak too ill of Draco. He cared for his godson, though he may not show it. Even if he hadn't taken the Unbreakable Vow, Severus would still honor his pledge to the students in his house, Draco included. He would protect them at whatever cost was necessary, for they had no one else...

There was no use, however, in not feeding Voldemort some element of the truth about the boy's slow strides. Severus's use of Occlumency far surpassed his superior's, but if the Dark Lord were to suspect that Severus wasn't telling the complete truth, there would be no leniency, so Severus didn't hesitate. He knew Lucius would take his words as an offense—failing to see past the exterior to the sincerity that lay beyond—and that Lucius wouldn't see the _real_ message Severus was trying to convey: he needed to buy Draco more time.

"Draco understands how - how important this is, my Lord."

"Do _you?_ "

The atmosphere in the room died with these two simple words. Lucius drew back, his hands visibly shaking. His wife, Narcissa, stood as frozen as a statue in the corner and locked eyes with Severus, clinging to some glimmer of hope for her son that the professor might be able to communicate noiselessly, but there was nothing. Just a stone cold reserve.

The Dark Lord rose from his chair, his wand in hand. A cruel smile formed across his thin lips. "Severus, if you would, please..."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus uttered without hesitation. He took only a few steps forward and raised his wand at his old friend. Lucius's eyes expanded, his body stiffening at the onslaught of what was to come. " _Crucio_ ," Severus cast, emotionlessly and seemingly without regard for his target.

Lucius collapsed to the floor instantly and convulsed, his head whipping this way and that as the pain of the Unforgivable Curse flooded his senses, his limbs, and his mind. The rest of the Death Eaters snickered, seemingly enjoying the scene; only Severus's reaction was decidedly mute and indifferent. His intense eyes flickered at the flames dancing off of the fireplace, but his face was as somber as could be. He watched the curse from his wand penetrate his poor friend's body, wanting to look away but unable to do so.

Severus wasn't permitted to stop. That decision belonged to his contemptible master, and he inwardly prayed for release. Finally, Lord Voldemort's quiet voice called out, "That's enough."

Severus lowered his wand immediately, and Lucius fell still, his eyes squeezed shut as the effects of the curse continued to course through his veins. Severus bowed his head and stepped aside as Voldemort glided to the fallen Death Eater sprawled in the middle of the room, his slits for eyes squinting at Lucius with an evil grin still etched on his face. "Do you understand now, Lucius?"

"Yes, my - my Lord," his victim barely managed to whimper.

"I am glad we are getting the message."

"Well, what about Snivellus here?" Bellatrix barked unexpectedly, surprising everyone by speaking out of turn. " _He's_ supposed to be aiding Draco, isn't he? He hasn't lifted a finger, my Lord. _He's_ the one who should be punished!"

The Dark Lord's frown was enough to make the maddening witch lapse back into silence. She quickly diverted her gaze from her master, instead focusing all her energy on Severus, who was just feet away.

 _Damn wench!_ Severus fumed privately, his shoulders tensing. _When will the vixen desist in her pursuit of my blood?_

Voldemort eyed his dark servant curiously for a moment before asking, "What say you, Severus?"

"My Lord, I will, of course, aid Draco if he asks it of me. I have given him many opportunities so far, but he has repeatedly refused my help. I await your instructions on when, and if, you wish me to take over for the boy."

"Only if necessary, Severus."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Although, I must confess, Bellatrix has brought something of value to light."

_Damn it._

Severus's eyes darted towards the crazy witch, now ogling him with a most sinister, yellow smile spread wide across her cheeks. She looked positively evil, turning her wand over in her fingers gingerly, craving her chance to strike.

"You see," Voldemort continued, "I had hoped for more information than what you brought me tonight, Severus. I informed you last time that I wanted more concrete details. I have to admit, you haven't performed much better this time."

Severus knew that had to be a lie and merely an excuse to torture. He had relayed every particular detail he could regarding Draco, without handing the poor boy over to be killed and done with. Severus quickly gathered that tonight was to be another night of hell—purely for entertainment purposes—and that _he_ was about to become a welcome target for one of Voldemort's crazy followers.

Severus did not cower as the Dark Lord drew close, unlike Lucius or any of the others who always diverted their gaze or inclined their heads. He stared straight into Voldemort's red eyes and could detect something that seemingly surprised, but also intrigued, his master greatly. No doubt about the dark wizard who refused to submit to him, but dared to look him straight in the face.

"You will have your fun tonight with one another at my expense," Voldemort affirmed, as an apprehensive response echoed around the room. "Bellatrix... Only one go. Severus has done well enough for me in the past, and I do not want my Head of Slytherin House incapable of teaching our future Death Eaters tomorrow. We need our professor to be at his utmost best."

Lucius had finally gotten to his feet, but he and Narcissa stepped away from the crowd of Death Eaters, unable to stomach what was going on. Severus, however, stood firm, his face expressionless; inwardly, however, he was as distressed as would be expected. He wouldn't be permitted to draw his wand without severe consequences. He would simply have to take Bellatrix's curse—whatever might be her fancy this evening—and endure the pain...

" _Diffindo!_ " she squealed with undisguised delight, ripping and clawing sounding from beneath Severus's coat.

Severus doubled over in pain, but his long hair masked the agony, and he refused to allow himself to cry out as the stinging sensation of torn flesh on his chest and back grabbed hold. _More scars, that's all_ , he told himself in an attempt to _not_ think of the exquisite pain. _It's just more bloody scars._

But then several gasps escaped his mouth. Bellatrix was not giving up after one go and was now ripping at the professor's skin in individual sections, thrilled with what she could decipher beneath the fabric and from Severus's lips. She may not have been able to witness the damage, but she knew the spell was working effectively. It was a sensation a wizard always could perceive at will, and Severus understood that he would receive very little comfort this evening once he returned safely to Hogwarts.

* * *

"An antidote for Nagini?" Harry's initial reaction mirrored Hermione's: shock. It had been a little over a week since she told him, and the surprise, for Hermione, had worn off a bit. Not so for Harry, it seemed.

"Yes."

"But this is Snape. The Death Eater. The selfish prick."

"Yes, I know."

"Are we talking about the same person?"

"Of course we are, Harry!" Hermione chuckled, throwing her Ancient Runes textbook onto her lap.

Harry shrugged and returned to his homework for a time, spreading his legs lazily over each other on the cozy rug before the fireplace in the common room. Ginny had only just left to go to the library with a few of her classmates, and Ron seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Hermione these days more than ever, especially if she happened to be in Harry's company. Harry, on the other hand, was staying neutral, adamant not to take sides.

"You going to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Hermione blinked and peered down at him from her comfortable recline on the sofa. "Yes, I am. You're going, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I need a date though..."

Hermione smiled wryly, suspecting who Harry wanted to invite but couldn't. Ginny was dating Dean Thomas, something Hermione still couldn't wrap her brain around. There was an obvious attraction between the youngest Weasley and Harry. It had been evident ever since the past summer when they all spent so much time together at the Burrow. The only person who seemed absolutely thick about the whole matter was Ron, which Harry was more than all right with. Hermione, however, wished one of them would just make a move already.

Then a dreadful realization came to her and she shot up on the couch. "Damn it!"

Harry startled and stared up at her, wide-eyed. "What?"

"I was supposed to check out a book from the library for Professor Snape! My detention's in ten minutes! There's no way I'll get to the library _and_ to my detention on time. He'll make me pay for this, I know it!"

Hermione stumbled to her feet and hastily threw her pen, parchment, and textbooks into a magical handbag she had picked up in Diagon Alley over the summer.

"Blimey, 'Mione, is Snape having you step and fetch for him now?" Harry seemed relatively concerned as he watched his frazzled friend collect her things.

"No, not like that, Harry," she sighed. "It's for his research and, honestly, the more information he's shared with me, the more interested I am. You know me; I can't help myself. Anyway, I thought you and Neville wanted me to make the most of my time with Snape, so that's what I'm trying to do."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I have to go! I'm already going to be late."

Hermione ran out of the common room and made her way to the library as fast as her feet would carry her. By the time she gathered the textbook she needed, checked it out, and sprinted to the D.A.D.A. classroom for her detention session, she was easily a good ten minutes late.

When she hesitantly tip toed into the room, Hermione found Snape leaning against the front of his desk with his arms crossed over his button down jacket. The wicked scowl on his mouth said it all: he was more than a little displeased. Hermione gulped, sensing the repercussions that were coming.

"Detention doesn't start at your leisure, Granger," he snarled after an agonizing pause.

"I - I know. I'm sorry, sir. I'd forgotten you wanted this textbook for your research, so I had to run there first—"

"At the last minute? That's no excuse, and that's your own fault. Ten points for being late, and you can stay an extra hour this evening to make up for your lack of punctuality."

Hermione heaved her shoulders, still trying to catch her breath. "But Professor—"

"Do you have somewhere more pressing to be?"

 _Of course! Anywhere but here!_ Hermione knew she couldn't give that answer without further consequences.

"No..."

"Very well. Come here."

Hermione reluctantly went to stand before him. Snape snatched the heavy book from her hands and inspected the covering, the frail binding, and the various pages inside. She waited somewhat foolishly, but it gave her a moment to pause and observe him more intently. His eyelashes, stark and longer than she had imagined, fluttered over the contents of the worn pages and, again, his lips unconsciously moved at a few indecipherable words she couldn't unravel. Then he suddenly turned his gaze to her and Hermione quickly averted her gaze from him.

"Do you consider yourself a religious person?"

Hermione's caramel orbs widened before shrinking to their original size. _That_ was an unexpected question. She surmised that this must have something to do with the book he requested, which admittedly had intrigued her when Snape had made the request during her last detention session. She refrained at the time from inquiring further.

"Um, well, my parents take me to church every year for Christmas, if that's what you mean."

A surprisingly delicate smirk emerged on Snape's mouth, barely detectable if viewed from afar. "I am not remotely interested in your personal life," he issued softly. "It's purely for academic purposes."

Hermione nodded and narrowed her eyes. "What use is a book on immortality and the afterlife to your area of research then, Professor? Seems a bit of a, um, stretch to me..."

"Indeed." Hermione thought she caught a short glistening in the wizard's eyes but then quickly determined that she must have envisioned it. Snape handed the book back to her, this time without force. "In fact, it has very little to do with my research. This is something else entirely. I'd like you to read it, Granger, preferably before your next detention on Saturday. We will have much to discuss."

"What?" Hermione became frazzled. "But sir, I - I have an Ancient Runes exam and a Potions essay that's due—"

"No exceptions."

Hermione fell silent, though her jaw set at a stubborn angle. Snape could see the heat trickling onto her rosy cheeks, displaying her inner resentment, but Dumbledore had asked him to make headway with her, and, so far, he had been quite reluctant to initiate anything. Seeing as her detentions would be over in a matter of weeks, Snape determined tonight that he would begin to introduce what he felt comfortable sharing, which admittedly wasn't much.

_Let's hope she figures out a few things on her own. The less I have to relay to this girl myself, the better. It will only lead to more unnecessary questions._

"Can I at least work on this now?" Hermione huffed, clutching the book to her chest as she so often did.

"You may."

Relieved, Hermione felt her shoulders relax. She sat down at her usual spot and was about to open the bizarre text when she glanced back up at him, another question forming in mind. Snape was still reclined against his desk but was massaging his chest, hinting at some sort of affliction, but he quickly recovered when he caught sight of her staring.

"What is it?" he snapped, causing Hermione to blink.

"Um, well, do you want me to take notes?"

Snape sighed and gingerly stood up straight, which Hermione thought a bit strange. "Yes, whatever you think is relevant," he answered with less severity.

Hermione, however, was still reluctant to start. "What should I be searching for, Professor?"

"I don't know. Whatever you think worthwhile and instructive."

 _Well, that's hardly helpful!_ Hermione criticized silently. She sighed, frustrated, and opened the book.

Hermione found herself more wrapped up in the material than she anticipated and easily lost track of time. When she finally glanced up at the clock about two hours later, she spotted Snape seated behind his desk, scribbling onto a piece of parchment with his feathered quill. There were a few additional books piled next to him that hadn't been there before, but Hermione couldn't make out the titles in such poor lighting.

"Professor?"

"What is it?" he drawled, uninterested. He continued to write without giving her his attention.

"How exactly was the Philosopher's Stone destroyed?"

Snape peered up from his work, his skin practically a white sheet against the dramatic darkness engulfing the room. "What has that to do with anything?" he inquired with skepticism. His voice sounded strained to Hermione's ears, which she additionally thought odd, but she pressed on with her question.

"Well, after Harry, Ron and I found the stone and Quirrell was destroyed, Dumbledore had it demolished. I was just wondering _how_ that was done? To destroy something of that magnitude and power must have been difficult..."

There was a long interlude of silence that followed before Snape answered her. "It was relatively easy to destroy, and only because Nicholas Flamel removed the many complicated protective shields he'd placed on the stone. That allowed Dumbledore to destroy it with the simple _Obliteration Charm_."

"Oh."

Sensing her disappointment, Snape laid down his quill and stared, interested despite not wishing to be. She seemed to be on the verge of something, and he could only hope she was headed in the right direction.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, a lot of what's in here pertains to different magical objects and possible potions to obtain immortality. The Philosopher's Stone is mentioned, too, but most of it sounds like a bunch of superstitious nonsense. The Elixir of Life is relevant, yes, but the majority of what's in here sounds like hogwash."

"And?"

Surprised by this subtle dose of encouragement, Hermione perked up in her chair. "If Voldemort wanted to achieve immortality all these years, why didn't he ever go searching for the stone back in the First Wizarding War? Did he not know about it?"

At this, Snape's face relaxed a little. "He did know about the stone, yes, and did try to go after it. Flamel and Dumbledore took every precaution to keep the Dark Lord from discovering its whereabouts."

"Well, then why wasn't it destroyed back then? Didn't anyone see the danger in keeping it protected? Surely, Flamel must have considered the welfare of the rest of the wizarding world—"

"He didn't," Severus interjected with a disapproving scowl. "Nicholas Flamel was a very private alchemist and, as such, not much is known about him except gossip and hearsay; however, he rivaled Dumbledore in his magical powers and capabilities. Everyone knows that. He never destroyed the stone simply because he wasn't ready to die. Destroying the stone would have killed Flamel as well as his wife; it was purely for selfish reasons that Flamel didn't take the most logical course of action possible, which would have benefited many, had he done so. The Dark Lord destroyed many lives in his relentless pursuit of it."

 _And Dumbledore was too bloody greedy to have it destroyed either_ , Severus reflected with a sour taste in his mouth.

Hermione pondered this information, frowning a little as she surveyed the open book. "Did Voldemort try many of the suggestions in here?"

"Yes, he did, and failed miserably."

Hermione was taken aback by the professor's frankness, but also by how little he seemed to regard the Dark Lord. His tone had subtly changed; it almost sounded like mockery and simply went against everything she and her friends had suspected about him for so long. Not that she trusted him any more now than she had five minutes ago.

"Does this..." She halted before continuing, "Does this text have something to do with Harry?" Severus stared without blinking, so Hermione pushed further. "Is there something in here that might help Harry defeat him?"

Now that the questions had slipped out, she suddenly felt stupid for asking. It was a joke of a book—most of the contents laughable and beyond ludicrous to her way of thinking—but something had still compelled her to ask.

"How would a rubbish book on immortality aid Mr. Potter in defeating the Dark Lord?" Severus retorted after a time. "Unless your infamous friend is planning to brew an Elixir of Life, which he is far too incompetent to achieve without killing himself, then I fail to see the connection, Granger."

"Something about Voldemort then?" she pressed, ignoring Snape's slight. "Did he achieve something in this book?"

Snape carefully folded his hands together on his desk, and the fluorescent hues from a small candle nearby painted more attractive coloring onto his face. He hadn't expected Hermione to come this close so soon and found it encouraging, to say the least. He was even more surprised that the clever girl was able to decipher his subdued gaze, as well as his silence, as enough to inquire further.

"The Elixir of Life," Hermione continued, "obviously prolongs the lifespan of the drinker, but it's not an absolute. It's not the definitive answer to achieving immortality. Voldemort has clearly gone to extended lengths to stay alive as long as he has. _How_ he's done that seems to be a mystery. Unless..." Her voice trailed off as she scrutinized Snape's colorless eyes anew. "Unless _you_ know something, sir. Do you?"

Snape's thin lips came together. Hermione didn't know what to make of his reaction. Everything the man said and did was shrouded in mystery, but her question had certainly stirred him on some level or another.

"My guesses are as good as anyone's, Granger. It is a question that has been sought after for a long time. A pursuit, as I understand it, that is being undertaken by Potter at the present on Dumbledore's orders."

" _Slughorn?_ " Hermione could hardly stifle her laughter. "You all think the answer to Voldemort's strides towards immortality lies with _him?_ "

"Is that so hard to believe? The Dark Lord was once his pupil. He was the Head of Slytherin House for many years before I took over. He lived through the First Wizarding War—"

"So did you."

It took a moment for Hermione's brain to register the gravity of what she had said, and panic automatically set in when she saw the flicker of anger emerge on Snape's face. His upper lip twitched and the crease between his eyebrows became more pronounced.

"Yes, I did, Granger," he whispered dangerously. "How remarkably observant of you."

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like _that_."

"Oh?" he challenged, before dismissing her with an abrupt wave of his hand. "Never mind. Get back to reading. You still have three hours before you can go for the night."

"But—"

"This conversation is over."

Snape returned to his writing, leaving Hermione to scramble her brain back into some kind of order. Surely, there was more to why the professor had requested this book and demanded that _she_ read it. As exhausted as Hermione was with mind puzzles and challenges, having been through more than enough hurdles in the past six years to last a lifetime, the Gryffindor in her never backed down from a challenge, especially if it was instigated by Severus Snape. The man hated her anyhow; all the more reason to uncover whatever secrets might lie beneath the surface.

* * *

"Why aren't you at all bothered by serving detention all day with that nasty, old sod?"

Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look, which she met with equal disdain, over breakfast in the Great Hall the following Saturday morning. "As it so happens, Ron, I am bothered. I'm in for the long haul until Christmas, for Merlin's sake. You'll be done with your detentions much sooner than me."

Ron gave an indecipherable grumble and returned to his half-consumed scrambled eggs. His nose was looking much better, but he had refused to allow Madame Pomfrey to fix it with a simple healing spell that involved snapping it back into place. Instead, he had endured weeks of discomfort as the swelling subsided and his natural skin color reemerged.

 _Wuss_ , Hermione thought with a contented smirk, though a hint of affection still lingered in her heart.

People were _still_ gossiping incessantly about the physical fist fight between Professor Snape and Ron, and the general consensus from every house—with the exception of Slytherin—was that the slimy git deserved to have his students rebel against him. Ron, much to Hermione's displeasure, seemed to be taking that notion right to his inflated head and was making the most of it, as was Lavender. Even Harry was beginning to have his fill of Ron's boastfulness.

"Does he even remember anymore that he's the one who wound up with the bloody nose?" Neville whispered to Harry and Hermione as they exited the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Lavender to themselves.

"Probably not," Hermione mumbled. "His ego has soared to new heights."

Harry tried to avoid taking sides again. "'Mione—"

"No! It's pathetic, Harry, and you know it!"

That brought the conversation to its swift conclusion, and Hermione made her way to the D.A.D.A. classroom whilst Harry headed to Quidditch practice and Neville went in search of Luna. "Enjoy your day with the Bat of the Dungeons!" Harry called to her as he headed off in the opposite direction, beaming at her as he went.

"He's not in the dungeons anymore, you prat!" Hermione quipped, smiling a little as she made her way to another full day of detention.

Severus was in the midst of prepping a potion when she entered, and Hermione was befuddled to find her usual spot already filled with a few textbooks, fresh parchment, and a pen. Apprehensive but not sure how to inquire without sounding rude, Hermione threw down her bag and waited for Severus to address her or give her instructions. As usual, he took his time, spreading out an array of ingredients at his work station whilst lighting a fire and extracting liquids from various jars at the same time, all without addressing her.

"I thought those texts might steer you in the right direction," he stated with a smooth purr. He continued to inspect the contents of his potion and left her to her own devices.

"In the right direction?"

"Mmm. Per our previous discussion."

Hermione eyed the books curiously. _Advanced Wizard's Guide to Nonverbal Spells. Dark Curses, Hexes, and Their Counterparts._

 _I know all this already!_ she huffed, inspecting them with an insulted look.

"I assure you, you will find hexes and jinxes in there you haven't tried or heard of before, Granger."

Hermione startled, wondering if the professor had literally just read her mind, but he didn't show any indication of having done so. After teaching Harry Occlumency last year, Hermione was thoroughly familiar with Snape's gift of mind reading, which made her even more leery when in his presence now.

Snape nodded towards the texts in her hands, pausing mid-brew. "They're first editions; there aren't any left in print to my knowledge. The Ministry had what they could unearth destroyed after the end of the war. These are my personal copies that I managed to salvage."

At this, Hermione carefully set them down and picked up the third book to read its title, when she let out a small gasp and almost dropped the book entirely. Snape whipped his head around and was met with a pair of incredulous, caramel eyes.

" _A How-To Guide to Spells of the Dark Arts?_ " she repeated shakily, staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

To her utter bewilderment, Snape didn't even flinch. Only his eyes flashed momentarily. He gave a curt nod and broke eye contact to start slicing a handful of scarab beetles.

"If you are to fully appreciate and understand spells used in combat, Granger, then it is imperative that you learn the full range and variations, the light and the dark."

"But this..." Hermione stumbled, not grasping the professor's motives. "This is a banned textbook. You couldn't have gotten something like this from the Restricted Section, could you?"

Severus peered over at her again, a darker expression covering his features. "No, of course not, you silly girl. That one is, again, my personal copy." When Hermione continued to give him a blank stare, he issued a frustrated eye roll. "Yes, it is a banned textbook, Granger, and it's also highly valuable if you wish to expand your knowledge and understand the entire scope of what you will be going up against. I daresay if more wizards had known how to combat many of the Dark Arts magic used in the last war, things might have turned out quite differently."

Hermione stared, still stunned and very confused. "Then what about—"

"I am regrettably not permitted to teach from these books in your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Surely, you already know _why_ I can't."

"Then... _Why me?_ Why am _I_ being given these to read if they're not allowed?"

Severus finally turned around and faced her head on, wiping at the sweat trickling down his forehead. Hermione hadn't noticed that he had been standing so close to the boiling cauldron, nor how relentlessly he had been working as she stood flabbergasted, barraging him with her series of questions.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Snape was also struggling internally with how to approach _this_ conversation. He heaved a weary sigh at last and replied quietly, "Because you are serving detention with me and, as such, I make the rules and can have you read whatever I like. Because I find many controversial books on the Dark Arts not to be misleading or misguided as so many ignorant fools do, but highly instructive in understanding our enemies. And because I think, unlike many of your peers, Miss Granger, that you possess a brain—though you don't always know how to use it properly—and can differentiate between _knowledge_ and _influence_.

"I think you will find these books illuminating in more ways than one, Granger. _That_ is why I'm giving them to you—temporarily—to read at your leisure, at least until the Christmas holiday. Then I would like them back. I trust you to handle them delicately and not to share them with others. The consequences, as I'm sure you are aware, would be severe if they fell into the wrong hands..."

It took a minute or two for Hermione to realize she had been staring at the back of Snape's head, at the long, straggly hair that fell to his shoulders and the tight-fitting coat that swayed at the bottom every step he made. She blinked hard and tried to register the three books now in her possession.

After much internal questioning, Hermione's curiosity ultimately won out, and she sat down in her chair, taking the borrowed quill in hand, opened the _Advanced Wizard's Guide_ , and began taking notes. She had no idea why Severus Snape seemed adamant about showing her these, but she would play along; until she figured out his true motives, whatever they were.


	8. Peculiarities in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 8: Peculiarities in Motion**

Severus paced before the fireplace in his personal quarters. Night had fallen, and the Dark Mark on his left arm hadn't grown sore yet. He had initiated Dumbledore's plan with Hermione Granger, but he could tell that she was highly suspicious, always skeptical of the rationale he presented for what he was doing. He hadn't expected it to be easy, but her lack of confidence in him frustrated the professor, nonetheless.

Though Severus hadn't realized it, he was growing fairly used to the presence of the insufferable know-it-all. Her company three days out of his week was, while not without its aggravations, a welcoming change from his usual bouts of isolation. He hardly knew how to act around people anymore, having grown into such a recluse over the years, and thereby treated Hermione as any other adult, rather than the seventeen-year-old that she was. It didn't seem to matter though. Something in the young lady's demeanor made her seem considerably wiser, even older, than the rest of her peers. And Severus appreciated that, at least; it made the job easier and slightly less of an irritating nuisance.

 _She caught on quicker than I would have imagined_ , Severus reflected as he continued to pace his office. _If only she and bloody Weasley could get a better handle on what will be expected of them, but especially of her..._

Severus snarled and threw himself down into his chair, flapping his cloak as he stared intensely into the whirling blazes of the hearth, taking comfort in their natural warmth. The ferocity of the look on his face, however, was acute, his building weariness evident to no one but himself.

_Damn Dumbledore. Damn that psychotic maniac. And damn that blasted Potter. When will it ever end, Lily? When will it ever be enough? How much more must I punish myself?_

Severus hung his head in his hands, his hair spilling over them to conceal his visible torment. He had resolved himself long ago to do the right thing—for her—even if the end result was less than favorable; even if the entire wizarding world came to despise him more than they already did; even if they branded him a traitor, beyond all forgiveness.

But only in the privacy of his chambers could Severus Snape's insecurities make themselves known. And the truth of it was, he didn't _want_ to be hated, he didn't _want_ to be so locked up inside himself, he didn't _want_ to be so _alone_... But there was no other way, no other foreseeable path. Not for Severus. This was his whole existence and his morbid reality: to be used, neglected, hated, mistreated, and continuously punished for all his past mistakes. Severus had come to accept what he was given long ago, but it didn't make the realities or the acceptance of it any easier to swallow.

In just a short two weeks, Severus had grown immensely grateful for some human interaction—even if the company was less favorable than what he would have preferred—and quickly considered the presence of Hermione a small token of stimulating conversation, even if it _did_ consistently border on the sour subject of Potter. It was an intellectual game of wits, really, and Severus grew more appreciative of it than he would ever allow himself to admit. Unlike her classmates, Hermione could at least provoke an interesting discussion from time to time that, while not on his intellectual level, was far closer than anyone else could come. It made him feel less alone in his mental state and more normal, more human. Even Dumbledore was entirely daft to Severus's way of thinking, and the Slytherin purposely kept hidden whatever he could from the Headmaster, just as he did from everyone else.

Severus growled as an unsettling thought crossed his mind. He was actually starting to look forward to Hermione Granger's detention tomorrow evening, and that not only annoyed the solitary professor, it petrified him to the core. To the dark, secluded Severus, this wasn't normal. And it certainly wasn't in his nature to feel this way. It was rather pathetic, actually.

_Get a hold of yourself, Severus! You don't have peers, or colleagues, or friends, for that matter. You're alone. You always have been, and you always will be. And when Miss Granger's detentions are through, you'll be left to your own devices again. Accept it and move on._

* * *

Hermione never chanced reading the three books Professor Snape had given her in public, nor in anyone's company, not even in the library or the common room when no one else was around. She was absolutely paranoid and rather detested Snape for making them her responsibility. If anyone caught such texts in her possession, and discovered who had given them to her, the entire school would brand her the next Heir of Salazaar Slytherin in a matter of hours.

 _Foolish, Hermione! This is mad!_ she berated herself, as she set to reading in the confines of her dormitory with the curtains drawn all around her as an added precaution. _Why do I let my curiosity run my life? This is a stupid, stupid idea. Snape obviously wants something from you. He was a Death Eater, Hermione. And he just gave you three books containing dangerous material on the Dark Arts that would get you expelled in a heartbeat. Hello!_ Hermione cringed openly as she settled against her pillow, deciding to continue where she had left off on the _Advanced Guide_. _You're an idiot, Hermione Granger, and your curiosity is going to come back to bite you in the arse..._

* * *

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Severus whipped a few dangling hairs away from his face and peered up at her from his large stack of papers.

Hermione was on the edge of her chair and staring across the divide at him with slight trepidation. There were many things bugging her about these detentions as of late, and if she were to unearth whatever he was up to, she couldn't dawdle any longer. Christmas was only weeks away.

"I still don't understand..."

Severus gave a frustrated growl. "Understand what exactly?"

"Well, the books you gave me..."

Severus's eyebrows narrowed. "We've already discussed this, Granger—"

"Yes, I know, sir," she blurted out, "but how is it that you've had these books on hand at Hogwarts all this time considering the, erm, content?"

Severus paused, unmoved, before answering in a matter-of-fact tone, "I possess many undesirable books. Wipe that look off your face, you foolish girl. And don't pretend to be so surprised, for that matter. You don't fool me. I'm sure you and your little friends have made many assumptions over the years about me, haven't you?" Hermione went red in the face and didn't answer. "For the record, Dumbledore knows what small collection of undesirable books I carry here, Granger; there aren't many. You're not going to be expelled for a bit of intellectual curiosity, which I know you are struggling with right now, so you can quit acting so suspicious."

A flicker of concern passed over Hermione's fair face. "Do I give that impression?" she whispered, to which Severus's colorless orbs actually lightened.

"You Gryffindors wear every feeling—every fleeting emotion—all over your ruddy faces. Your sentiments at any given moment might as well be plastered across your foreheads. It's not hard to decipher, Granger. Subtly is not one of your specialties."

Hermione darted her eyes, but a small, wry smile broke out, her cheeks glowing a rosier hue than normal. "Sorry, sir." She brought her gaze tentatively back to him. "I don't mean to be rude."

"Spare me your apology. It makes no difference to me either way."

Severus's unemotional remark thrust Hermione back to her senses, and she quickly reverted to her reading assignment, allowing him to return to his own work. After a while, Hermione chanced another question. It was always a gamble trying to talk to the professor, but Hermione was becoming more attuned to his silences. The outcome of whatever spewed from that shrewd mouth, however, was never really a known factor, and always an emotional risk.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he mumbled, though not seemly irritated by the interruption.

"Will you be teaching us any of the nonverbals in this book?" She held up the _Curses and Hexes_ text for him to see.

"I'm not permitted to teach much of anything in that book."

"I see. Could you..." she hesitated and bit her lip. She couldn't believe she was about to make this request. "Could you teach me about all the nonverbals we won't be learning? The - The darker curses in here, I mean?"

 _Dumbledore will be pleased with this_ , Severus considered with a compounded sneer. He met Hermione's anxious stare with one arched eyebrow. "If you'd like."

Hermione gawked, taken aback. " _Really?_ "

"Yes, of course. Why not?"

"Oh, um, nothing." After another hesitation, she piped up, "You mean, I won't get in trouble for it? For learning dark magic?"

Severus returned to grading and scratched at the parchment furiously. "Not as long as it's in the classroom setting and for academic purposes, no."

_And because this was Dumbledore's shit-faced idea and I have no bloody choice in the matter._

Hermione swallowed, not entirely convinced, but didn't push any further. She still couldn't quite believe she had asked the nasty, foul greasy git to teach her dark magic, and that such an activity would actually be permitted. Surely, she must be losing her mind...

"Another question, Granger?" Severus drawled, never diverting his focus from his grading.

The words hadn't even escaped Hermione's mouth yet, but somehow the brilliant wizard already discerned that she wasn't finished, which made her blush again. "Professor, I've been thinking about some of the dark spells mentioned in these books. And I'm wondering..."

"Go on."

"Well, I'm rather shocked that we haven't been taught any of these. We know about the Unforgivable Curses because they're the most lethal, but there are many, many incantations in these books that sound just as awful to me. Gouging flesh, suffocation spells, disembowelment, mind attacks... I - I'm shocked. Why wouldn't we be permitted to know about these and how to defend ourselves, especially if we're at least permitted to know about Unforgivables and how they're cast?"

"Because the Ministry forbids it."

"I gathered that much," Hermione shot back testily, at which Severus finally cast his eyes upon her.

"The Board of Governors and the Ministry don't allow it for their own impractical reasons. They're worried that students will become persuaded to practice them on each other or on their instructors. They're also paranoid that students will be heavily influenced by the Dark Arts if they are permitted to learn more in depth about particular curses. No one wants that. If a student utilized any of the spells in those books, they'd be punished severely, of course. They'd be expelled, for sure, but their severity is not as acute as that of an Unforgivable, which would land a student in Azkaban without question.

"The wizarding world sees dark spells the same way they view the Dark Arts in general: with fear and trepidation and a consensus that, rather than being more thoroughly understood so that it can be combatted properly, it should simply be barricaded off, and then the problems will simply die away."

"I see..."

"You are not convinced?"

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered. "No, it's not that, Professor. I just think that, considering what lies ahead for Harry and the rest of us, it would be more imperative than ever to, as you once told us, 'know what we're up against.'"

An unexpected glimpse of a smile trailed across Severus's lips. "So you _have_ , as it turns out, been listening, albeit only a fraction, Granger."

Hermione returned his smile willingly, her face brightening and filling the room like much needed candlelight. "Of course. You're surprised?"

"Exceptionally."

"I'm not as scatterbrained as you might think."

"I never implied that you were."

"Well, all the same..."

To Hermione, Severus's expression looked remarkably softer than before, and she found it a welcoming change from the usual cold scowl he wore. "Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two after all," he purred, transferring his gaze from her back to his work.

Hermione couldn't help but broaden her smile. Was this actual progress?

_Don't get too excited, Hermione. The man's moody and entirely unpredictable._

After a long interlude of silence in which she barely read any more of her textbook, Hermione chanced a peek at the professor again and was perturbed with what she saw. Severus wasn't working anymore. He was staring off somewhere in front of him, frozen and unblinking. His skin was ghostly and startlingly haggard, even more so than before, and the dark circles under his eyes had grown additionally more pronounced. The elegant hand that held the feathered quill had gone limp, along with the rest of his seated frame. And those eyes, hard as stone, were glazed over, deep in thought. _Too deep in thought._

"Professor?" she chanced, her voice rising slightly in alarm.

Severus didn't budge or show any indication of hearing her. Hermione tried addressing him several more times, but he wouldn't reply or so much as blink in her direction. Something, she determined fast, was terribly wrong.

Hermione jumped to her feet and rushed over to him, still a little reluctant to get too close. There was no telling how the powerful man might react if she caught him off his guard. His quick reflexes were more than enough to put her on her guard.

"Professor Snape?" she whispered, waiting for a time before reaching out to carefully touch his shoulder. The fabric was stiff, the warmth of his flesh penetrating through the cloth. " _Sir?_ Are you all right?" Still receiving no answer, Hermione started to shake him rather violently. " _Professor?_ Professor Snape? Sir? _Please, answer me! Snape!_ "

Suddenly, to her relief, Severus's head jerked, and his dark eyes came back into focus, his long lashes fluttering as he soaked in his surroundings. She let out the breath she had been holding but unconsciously maintained her grip on his shoulder.

Severus glanced up at her after a moment and was startled by how close she was to him. More than that, she was touching him. Severus Snape was never touched, and his response rattled his concerned student. He jumped back like a skittish animal and recoiled from her in his chair, his eyes widened, almost in fear.

" _Sir?_ " she implored nervously, her hand hanging in the air, stretched out to him. "You - You weren't answering me. You were just staring off somewhere, not blinking. You looked like you were in some sort of trance. Are you all right?"

"Miss Granger—"

"Are you all right?" Hermione repeated more emphatically. She tried to ignore his bizarre reaction to her touch, more concerned with how tired and weak he appeared. "You don't look well."

" _I'm fine!_ " he sniped, his voice unnaturally thin; it didn't escape Hermione's notice. She frowned and finally lowered her arm.

"No, you're not. Do you want me to fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

"Absolutely not." Severus cleared his throat and adjusted his cloak, reverting his eyes from her.

_Goddamn it. Not again._

"Well, do you need something? Can I get you anything?"

"No, Granger, I'm perfectly capable of doing things myself."

"But—"

"Get away from my desk." He began hastily sorting through his papers, ignoring her.

"All right..."

Severus ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to collect himself, but Hermione wasn't sure why he was bothering. Whatever was wrong, she had witnessed it. Not willing to risk getting herself into more trouble, however, Hermione reluctantly backed away and was about to return to her desk when Severus's fierce rumble stopped her in her tracks.

"You are dismissed, Granger. Get out of here."

"What? I am? Are - Are you sure?"

" _Get. Out._ "

This time, Hermione didn't hesitate. She gathered up her things and sped to the door, happy to be rid of the wizard's company now. Her moral conscience, however, forced her to stop when she reached the door and risk one last glimpse to make sure the man was all right before she disappeared.

Severus's lean body was hunched over his desk, his pale fingers covering his eyes, seemingly unaware that she was still there. Knowing there would be hell to pay if she stayed another moment, Hermione bit her lip and left the bitter Potions Master to himself, though not without difficulty, and to her own disbelief, with concern.

* * *

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"How - How's Snape treating you?"

Hermione lowered her book and peered up at Ron suspiciously. "Well enough. It's Snape. Why?"

"Well, you've been acting rather strange lately..."

"Come again?"

"You're acting odd."

"Could you be more specific, Ron? You and I haven't exactly been in each other's company much, so I'm not sure how you could make that observation anyhow."

Ron's cheeks flushed and he slumped into a chair across from her in the library, between one of the stacks. He leaned forward and crossed his arms, which Hermione concluded must be his attempt at intimidating her. It was a laughable effort. He certainly couldn't strike fear in her the way Professor Snape could, particularly if the professor himself was going to be their topic of conversation.

"You don't seem to dislike these detentions anymore. Harry thought as much, too. You almost seem to - _enjoy_ \- them..."

" _Huh?_ " The shock on Hermione's face made Ron rear back.

"You aren't enjoying them then?"

"No, of course not! Why would I like to waste an entirely good Saturday spending the day with _Snape?_ What on earth gave you or Harry that impression? Just because I'm not complaining about him all the time, is that it?"

Ron diverted his eyes and blushed, feeling stupid. "Erm, well, yeah, I suppose that's it."

"Oh, good grief, Ron! What the hell does it even matter whether I complain about the man or not? Frankly, I'm exhausted with it. And anyway, he's actually not as terrible one-on-one. He's tolerable, at the very least."

Ron's face morphed into shock. "What kind of detentions are you having then? He's been a complete, utter arse to _me!_ And he's always vile to Harry and every other Gryffindor who serves detention with him!"

"Are we _really_ having this conversation?" Hermione could sense the temper within her rising. She slammed her book shut much louder than she meant to, and the sound echoed across the stacks. "What do you care about the situation I'm in anyhow, Ron Weasley?"

"Don't go there, 'Mione!" Hermione shot to her feet, and Ron did likewise. "I thought we were still friends."

"Really? Well, you have a pretty poor way of showing it!"

"Oh, come off it! You're just jealous!"

" _What?_ "

"Of Lavender and I! It's obvious! _You're_ the one who stopped talking to _me_ , remember?"

"Well, you haven't exactly been all that friendly to me lately, have you?"

"That's a crock of shit!"

"As are _you!_ " she exclaimed, not realizing that several students were now peeking round the stacks to check out their heated altercation.

"Why are you taking McLaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

The question caught Hermione off guard, but a wicked smile formed at the corners of her lips. The anger in Ron's question was obvious. He was jealous.

"What's it to _you_ who I go with, Ron?"

"Nothing! Except that he's a right dirty prat! You could do better, you know."

"As could you," she mumbled, before she could stop herself.

Ron's eyes narrowed in anger. "What, 'Mione?"

"Nothing. I have to go."

"No, you don't! You're just looking for an excuse to get away from me."

"I am not!"

"You're acting childish!"

" _You're_ one to talk!"

Ron gave a furious swipe of his hand. "Oh, go on! Ignore me; gripe about me behind my back; be a stuck up, prissy little wench! That's what you are, you know that? _It's what you've always been!_ No one's ever been good enough or smart enough for you! You self-righteous bitch!"

Hermione stumbled back against the book stack behind her as if she had been struck. Tears were stinging her eyes as she stared at Ron anew, shocked. She hoped to find a reminder of the friend she knew and loved, but he was staring her down with a look of total revulsion, a sight she had only seen once before, and it made her sick to her stomach. She suddenly felt the urge to sink into the floor and disappear.

" _Mr. Weasley!_ " came a dark growl they both recognized.

Ron and Hermione whipped their heads towards the end of the aisle to find the ominous figure of Professor Snape eying them both up and down with a formidable intensity. His sneer of contempt, however, seemed entirely reserved for Ron, who gulped nervously at the force he was now met with.

Severus advanced on Ron with remarkable speed and grabbed him forcefully by the arm. The young man startled and tried to step back but ran right into his chair, almost knocking himself over. Hermione could do nothing but watch in shock at the dangerous, rather frightening expression that manifested on Snape's face.

"I am content to wash your mouth out with my bare fists!" he whispered, too low for anyone other than Hermione to overhear.

"S - Sir?" Ron staggered, his lips quivering.

"That is _no way_ to address a lady, you barbaric numbskull! Surely, your mother would have taught you better than that." He tightened his grip around Ron's arm, who was surprised by the sheer physical force of Snape's grasp. He reacted by wincing in pain. "If I ever hear you speak to Miss Granger or any other young woman in that manner again, I will break far more than just your nose. Do you understand? Make no mistake, Weasley, _I will break you_ , and you will lament the day you ever chose to speak with such a vulgar tongue. I will make sure of it. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"But - But she—"

" _Be quiet!_ " he snapped, and Hermione jolted as Snape suddenly grabbed Ron by a fist full of his robes and thrust him hard in the opposite direction.

Ron went flying across the aisle and tumbled to the ground several feet away. After the initial shock wore off, he whipped his body around, staring up at Snape with his blue eyes gaping in shock.

"Another detention, Weasley," Severus hissed, his tone more than threatening. "Tonight. Seven o'clock. My office. If you are so much as a second late, I will set every one of those red hairs of yours ablaze!"

Ron swallowed again, stumbled to his feet, and ran off, leaving Hermione planted where she stood, frozen. She stared at Snape, who was still glaring at the spot where Ron had disappeared, his breathing strained and his black eyes surging with a rage she had never seen before.

Hermione startled when she suddenly noticed the wand gripped in the professor's hand. She hadn't realized until then that poor Ron had no idea just how close he had come to receiving an actual hex or two from the powerful wizard. The very notion made her skin crawl in terror.

Then those fuming irises locked on Hermione, and she sucked in a breath. His eyes softened a little when they met hers, and, for an intense, drawn out pause, the two only stared at one another, the awkwardness of the situation encasing them in its hold. Then, as if he had never been there, Snape broke eye contact and drifted out of sight, his robes billowing behind him as he hurried away from her as quickly as possible.

Oxygen slowly returned to Hermione's lungs as she gawked at the spot where the professor had vanished. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

_Severus, you insolent fool!_ he berated himself with a snarl as he returned to his empty classroom, slamming the door as he entered. _Why did you even interfere? Insufferable Gryffindors! Always opening their goddamn mouths without thinking! You should've expected nothing less!_

Severus rushed to his desk to sit down, taking his quill in hand. But then, with all the built up frustrations surging within that he had almost unleashed upon Ron, Severus threw his quill across the room in one powerful swoop. Why did he care what Weasley called Granger? They both meant nothing to him. _Nothing!_

Once Severus caught his breath and calmed down a notch, he collapsed into his chair and stared off into the engulfing shadows of his classroom. He had heard those nasty words unleashed during his childhood too many times to count. It shouldn't have affected him the way it had today, and yet, hearing those vulgar absurdities was just as painful now as it had once been. Catching not only Weasley's remark but that familiar, deeply wounded pain on Hermione's face was more than enough to unleash his rage.

Severus's actions, however, were just as befuddling to him as, he presumed, they probably were to Hermione at the moment. _You have more important things to think about Severus. Enough! Granger can fight her own battles. And Weasley's utterly hopeless, a waste of a male specimen, so forget about them both!_

Severus let out a prolonged sigh and brought a hand to his temple. The sooner Hermione Granger's detentions were over, the better. But there was still so much for her to learn, and an equal amount riding on his efforts. Severus squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing pangs in his head.

_Time to move things along, Severus. This needs to be over and done with. Quickly._

* * *

As Hermione headed for detention the following Wednesday evening, visions of that event in the library were heavily engraved in her mind. Ron's terrible name calling, the way he looked at her with such painful disgust, Professor Snape coming to her defense; or was that misconstrued? Those unsettling eyes were on the verge of shredding Ron to pieces, and all seemingly because of the foul name he had called _her_.

Why had the professor lashed out on her behalf? Maybe that wasn't really the case; after all, nothing the complicated wizard did made much sense or seemed to be at the benefit of others anyhow. But didn't he seem to be showing _some_ indication of caring?

Didn't he hear students swearing and calling each other names all the time? Not that it made it right. _Should I confront him about it? Will he confront me?_

Hermione stepped into the classroom with a deep breath, prepared for the onslaught of more awkwardness for the next several hours. But to her surprise, Snape was waiting for her, standing in the center of the room with his hands behind his back. He showed no indication of feeling uneasy, nor did he address her outright; he simply stared unreservedly in his typical, intimidating fashion.

Hermione scanned the room, perplexed. All the desks had been moved aside, so there was no place for her to sit. She had brought the textbooks Snape had given her, prepared to ask him more questions that had been racking her brain, but he seemed to read her thoughts as soon as they came.

"No reading tonight, Granger. Put your belongings aside with the exception of your wand, if you please." He nodded to the far corner of the room but kept his intense irises fixed on her. After she did as instructed, Hermione started to proceed towards him when he abruptly threw up a hand. "That's close enough."

"Sir, what—"

"You wanted to learn how to defend yourself from the darker magic you've been reading about. It is high time I gave you a taste of what they're like. You need helpful pointers that will allow you to successfully block and defend yourself faster, cleaner, and with far less room for error.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, Granger, I am not permitted to practice Dark Arts on any student, but tonight will be an opportune exception..."


	9. The Unspoken Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 9: The Unspoken Look**

Hermione immediately panicked at Snape's unnerving remark but was quickly reassured, albeit only a little, by what followed. For the next two hours, Snape spent a considerable amount of time explaining the various Dark Arts curses, hexes, and jinxes Hermione had familiarized herself with, and how to block them accordingly. He additionally explained how they were cast, but would not permit her to demonstrate with her wand, which she was secretly very relieved about. Snape's instruction didn't mean that he didn't take undisguised pleasure in making a proper fool out of her once they started dueling, however.

Hermione was unable to block countless times and found the spells far more difficult to combat than she had ever imagined. The pain she received was equally unbearable. She was attacked mentally and physically on so many levels that she quickly lost count. The whole lesson was beyond infuriating, as illustrated by her flustered countenance. Having fallen over more than enough times now, Hermione expected to have a handful of bruises tomorrow and was feeling the soreness of each blow.

" _Concentrate_ , Granger!" Snape chided, growing more and more agitated despite the slow progress she was making. "Where is your head?"

"Attached to my neck," she grumbled under her breath. The flicker of anger that followed in Snape's eyes made her instantly regret her snide remark.

Without warning, just as he had done several times before, Snape unleashed a dozen dark nonverbals her way. Only this time they were even more powerful than before, fully illustrating the wizard's capabilities and sheer might, as if the Gryffindor weren't already aware of the fact.

Hermione cried out after she narrowly missed several of the many blasts that shot at her with tremendous force. When his demonstration was through, Hermione was on her back again, her tussled, chestnut curls spread out on the floor in disarray. She shot up and stared him down from across the room.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, no longer caring whom she was addressing.

Snape's smirk of triumph only heightened her fury. "Instructing," he replied dryly, as she got to her feet.

"Seems like you're out for more than just proving a point, sir!"

"Don't be overdramatic."

" _I'm_ the one being bruised and battered here! I think I've earned the right!"

"If you _listened_ to what I've been telling you, then you wouldn't be."

Hermione growled and scowled at Snape in a manner that matched his own. Try as he might not to, he secretly found her rage quite amusing. She was insensibly vocal and overly emotional most of the time, both of which he couldn't help but find humorous. It was all rather enticing, actually.

"I'm glad I seem to amuse you!" she cried, swiping dust off her knees.

Snape's raven eyes glistened. "It's hard not to. Stop making excuses. You have no one to blame but yourself."

"I _have_ been listening to you! And I'm not making excuses! You're just out to make a fool out of me and abuse me as you see fit!"

"I'm not at all out to abuse you." Snape gave an emphatic roll of his eyes. "Now stop with your incessant whining. It's unbecoming and beneath someone of your age."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but then shut it, burning hot in the face. Snape returned to his dueling stance and Hermione swiftly did likewise. This time, she performed marginally better, but still ended up on her back.

After several more rounds, her energy with the lesson was depleting fast. Panting after another episode of being thrown to the floor, she breathed heavily, "Sir, may I have some water? Could we at least take a quick break if you intend to do this to me all evening?"

Snape cocked his head to one side, his look undistinguishable. "Very well, Granger. Five minutes."

With an elegant wave of his wrist, a glass of water glided towards her from his desk, which she snatched up and downed in one gulp. Not even bothering to take a seat in one of the chairs, she remained slumped on the floor and tried to catch her breath.

_Why the hell did you ask for this, Hermione?_

"Professor?" she inquired, after oxygen finally infiltrated her lungs again.

"What is it now?"

Snape was behind his desk and inspecting an owl with a troubling sort of frown, but Hermione pressed him anyway. "I spotted a term in your _Curses and Hexes_ book last night that I didn't recognize." She paused, waiting for him to perhaps give her his attention; he didn't, so she plunged ahead. "What's a Horcrux?"

Snape's attention stirred, and his eyes flickered unnaturally in her direction. He also turned his head slightly. "What did you say, Granger?"

"Um, what's a Horcrux? I've never heard of it and the book didn't actually describe it any detail, just used it in reference to something else about magical objects. I tried looking it up in the Restricted Section and couldn't find anything, which is strange."

There was a curiously long pause before Snape finally addressed her question, speaking in a low, steady voice. "A Horcrux is a magical object used to conceal a fragment of a person's soul. Should the wizard's body be attacked or destroyed, he could live on through the objects in which he has encased himself. The very practice of it is not only against magical law but against nature, which is why you haven't heard of it before, Granger. It is the darkest sort of magic, the worse kind."

The thought of such a practice was both disgusting and horrifying to Hermione, and she scrunched up her nose in response. "How exactly could a person do that?"

"As I said, by ripping the soul."

"Yes, but _how?_ "

"I think you already have an indication, Granger," Snape responded testily. "You're a clever girl."

His reply was so flat and final that Hermione felt somewhat nauseous. As she sat on the floor and stewed over this new information, an awareness slowly crept across her visage, and she drew up onto her battered knees and eyed Snape with caution. "Sir, could Voldemort have achieved this? Could he have ripped his soul and stored it away so that he wouldn't die?"

Snape was still and unyielding, but once he responded, he sounded aggravated. "What makes you think he'd have done such a thing?"

"Now that you've explained it to me," Hermione murmured breathlessly, ignoring his annoyance and growing excited, "it would make sense. We've wondered how he managed to survive the last war when his body was destroyed after attacking Harry. There have been a lot of theories, of course, but, frankly, none of them have ever seemed very logical to me. Unicorn blood was a given, but still...

"He showed up again in our first year; well, not in his own form, but attached to Quirrell. Couldn't _he_ have been a Horcrux? And then in the Chamber of Secrets: Tom Riddle's diary... That was destroyed in our second year and Harry told me when he destroyed it, it obliterated the memory of Riddle with it. That diary... It - It could very well have been a Horcrux! It makes perfect sense!"

"Miss Granger." Snape strode over to her, but Hermione noted something different about him. His voice was hushed and very controlled. There was also a strange alteration in his typically frigid expression that told her something was afoot. "These are curious assumptions you're making, but—"

"You've known." Hermione interrupted, aghast, peering up at him in horror. She watched Snape's pupils constrict and his jaw twist, but he said nothing. "You - You've known how Voldemort sought to achieve immortality, haven't you? And you've said _nothing!_ How - How could you?"

"Miss Granger—"

"Have you even considered telling Dumbledore, or Harry, for that matter? How could you keep such a secret? Why would you hide this?"

"Granger," Severus snarled, his frustration at being interrupted mounting, but Hermione ignored him and leaped to her feet.

"NO! Why on earth would you not tell me? Why did you make me run around in circles trying to figure this out on my own? Is this some kind of sick game for your amusement?"

"Granger, if you interrupt me again, I will be forced to silence you the hard way! _Be quiet!_ "

Hermione reluctantly did as Snape asked, but her caramel irises were antsy and enlarged at her discovery. Unbeknownst to her, Snape's mind was also racing, struggling with how to proceed. He had been prepared for the bright, young witch to unearth this information, but even Dumbledore had his reservations about her knowing just yet; Harry, for one, hadn't a clue, much to Snape's own disapleasure. And as much as Snape was trusted by the Dark Lord, the fiend still hadn't disclosed much about his greatest secret, and purposely kept it from everyone, including Snape. How to move forward, and how much to disclose just yet, was a matter Snape suddenly felt ill-equipped for.

"First off," he began, "I haven't kept any such secrets about the Dark Lord's quest for immortality, so get that ridiculous assumption out of your head. Secondly, I am not entirely at leisure to discuss the subject of Horcruxes as it is, but I have been hoping you would draw conclusions on your own from the books I've provided, Granger. And thus, you have."

_Damn you, Dumbledore. This is ridiculous._

"Dumbledore and I have since come closer over the years to finding answers on the Horcruxes, but I won't elaborate on the details of that, as it is none of your business, nor Potter's, unless the Headmaster chooses to make it so.

"Furthermore, you are not to breathe a word about this to _anyone_ , and that includes Weasley." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Snape silenced her with a threatening growl. "We don't need this kind of gossip and hearsay spreading around the school at such a dangerous time as now. This is dark magic, the worst of its kind, and it needn't be spread around so carelessly. Times are hard enough for most, and the last thing we need is chaos and panic.

"Dumbledore is working with Potter to uncover what we think might be the confirmation we've been searching for, and that answer may lie with Professor Slughorn. Until we discover the truth, however, you aren't to elaborate on this or utter a single word to anyone, do you understand? _Not even Potter_. That is up to Dumbledore to disclose, not you. If you so much as hint at the word Horcrux, Granger, I can promise you that I will know, and the consequence will be _severe_."

Hermione's throat constricted, her brain nothing but mush as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She felt as if she had entered a whirlpool with no lifeline, and had no idea how to take all of this.

Sensing the room starting to spin and bringing her off balance, Hermione closed her eyes to compose herself. Once she felt that she had some control over her wits again, she opened her eyes and stared long and hard at the elusive man in front of her, a burning question still pressing on her mind.

"Then why did you want _me_ to uncover this information, Professor? This makes absolutely no sense. You're using me for something... What is it you want?"

With a foreboding sneer, Snape took a step closer, and Hermione felt temporarily paralyzed as his unsettling glare bore into her, overpowering her ability to move or do much of anything except stare back. She swallowed hard and waited with bated breath. When Snape spoke to her, it was with a deep, authoritative command that she knew she had no choice but to obey.

"Your cooperation, Granger. _No exceptions_."

* * *

Hermione felt cold and lifeless for the next several days, and, for the first time, was secretly grateful that much of Harry's time was being taken up by Quidditch practice. That meant Ginny was unavailable too, though, leaving her with hardly anyone to converse with. Talking to Ron was simply out of the question. Not that she could disclose anything to him anyhow.

 _How the hell am I supposed to keep this from my best friend?_ She groaned and brought her knees up to her chest on her bed, wrapping her arms around herself for what little comfort it provided.

Hermione had finished her homework hours ago and had tried her best to read more from Professor's Snape collection, all the while never able to completely get her mind off the subject. She had even considered going straight to Dumbledore about what the Slytherin had shared, but his threat stirred an aching warning in her heart, and thus, she resigned herself not to do a thing. For now.

Instead, she ran her theories through her analytical mind over and over Friday night whilst locked away in her dormitory. _Snape and Dumbledore think Horcruxes are how Voldemort has survived this long. So, then, how many times did he split his soul? What objects would he have hidden his soul in, aside from Quirrell and the diary? Merlin... What if there are a dozen objects? A hundred even? How would anyone find them all? Where would they even begin? Damn it, why can't I tell Harry? He needs to know! This is important!_

Hermione smacked her face with her pillow and threw it angrily across the room, releasing some of her built up frustrations. Crookshanks, sleeping at the corner of her bed, perked his ears up and hissed, infuriated with the disruption of his beauty sleep, but Hermione ignored him.

"Ugh, this is so aggravating!" she cried aloud, wringing her hands in the air. "Damn me to hell for getting myself several weeks' worth detention! I knew my curiosity would come back to haunt me! Damn that awful, deceitful man!"

Hermione sighed and dragged herself across the room to gather up her pillow, before collapsing back onto her bed in a heap. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't.

Her attention attached itself to a moving picture on her nightstand. She, Harry, and Ron beamed back at her; it had been taken just last year at the start of term, and it was a happy photograph she was very fond of. It was an endearing image of the three of them together, the best and closest of friends.

Staring at the goofy redhead with the attractive freckles only made Hermione feel worse than ever. Her eyes swelled with tears and she turned away, burying her face in her pillow to sob noiselessly.

"Ron," she sniveled, "how could you be so hurtful? How could you do this?"

Then a fleeting image of the library incident came back to her in waves, and she ceased crying, because the reflections from that moment weren't of Ron and his foul mouth. They were of Severus Snape, that dark, brooding, ever more intriguing figure who still held such a power over her, just as he had six years ago. But it was more than that…

There were many attributes about him that were only now coming to light for her, characteristics she hadn't really paid attention to until now. His pale skin, not at all grotesque, was flawless and smooth, seemingly delicate like porcelain. Then there was the protruding nose that was the prominent feature of his strong face and the subject of so much ridicule; but Hermione couldn't view it much in that light anymore. It wasn't really ugly, per say. It was dignified, a reflection of his fierce personality and strength. There were those long, raven tresses of his too: somewhat limp and at times greasy in appearance, and yet, lately, strangely soft and luscious looking. Were the strands, in fact, soft to the touch? Finally, there were those ebony-colored eyes of his, so distinguishable and curious, not to mention mystical, and his surprisingly long eyelashes, thick and enviously beautiful if one got close enough to soak them in in detail…

Hermione shuddered, but the chill that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the chilly temperature of her dormitory. She wasn't quite sure what it was, actually, but she quickly concluded that she never wanted to think of Professor Snape in that manner ever again.

 _You really_ are _losing your mind, Hermione..._

* * *

"She knows then?"

"Yes, Albus."

"Well, I must say, I'm surprised at how quickly Miss Granger caught on."

"I've been suggesting this to you for years, Albus. Miss Granger has drawn the same conclusions."

"How much did you tell her?"

"I didn't confirm anything about the diary or Quirrell, but she's smart, Albus. She knows."

"I see. Well, we must hope her tongue doesn't slip in the future."

"Albus," Severus urged emphatically, "Potter should know. He should have known a long time ago!"

"Don't be too hasty, Severus."

Severus stopped pacing before Dumbledore's desk and eyed him apprehensively. "Why ever not? I thought you were planning on it. I've taken the liberty of explaining a few details to Granger. Isn't it time that Potter be warned?"

"No, not yet." Dumbledore shook his head decidedly. "Not until it's confirmed by Horace's memory. I do hope by the time of his Christmas party, Harry will have something. I'm assuming you told Miss Granger not to tell Harry?"

"Of course," Severus snarled unhappily. "Not that I expect her to keep her word. They're _friends_ , you know. You should tell Harry sooner rather than later, Albus."

Dumbledore, however, simply chuckled and disregarded Severus's consideration. "Never mind. He will know soon enough. Any word yet on Draco's latest scheme?"

Severus stiffened, his eyes turning cold. "No. He's avoiding everyone, including me."

"Well, I am awaiting his next move. Katie Bell was very fortunate, Severus. We could have had a real mess on our hands. If it was up to me, and Draco hadn't made such a foolish blunder that may already be costing him his life, I'd have had him expelled."

"He had little choice in the matter, Albus. You know that."

"Perhaps... Keep an eye on him, Severus."

Severus's eyes shimmered furiously amidst the darkness. "I always have, just as I do with every student in my house."

"I don't think they need much protection, Severus." Severus's pupils dilated, and a deep-seated grimace drew across his mouth, but the old wizard didn't seem to care. "We know where the majority of Slytherin's students are headed. Let us not be submissive on that point. I can only hope that when justice is served upon the Dark Lord and his minions that your students will be spared, and perhaps receive better treatment than their predecessors."

"How can you—" Severus abruptly stopped himself and took a calculated breath, his nostrils flaring in anger. "How dare you make such an assumption, Albus."

"I'm sorry?"

"That is all my house has ever been to you, hasn't it? It's exactly how you view every single Slytherin that passes through these castle walls, is it not? You and the rest of the staff! _Exactly as I predicted!_

"Death Eaters: boys and girls with no chance at a brighter future, mean-spirited, with a thirst for blood and power, all hell-bent on undermining others. What utter prejudice!"

"Oh? And on the contrary, you've turned out to be quite the opposite?"

The dangerous provocation in Dumbledore's blue eyes stirred something hot and revolting inside Severus, but he managed to restrain himself, though it took every ounce of his being. "Don't say that to me," he managed through a clenched jaw.

Dumbledore's demeanor immediately softened, as if he were reconsidering his remarks. "I'm sorry, Severus. Let's not talk about this. We're getting off point. There are more important matters at hand. Most important is Miss Granger. You need to delve further, Severus. _Much further_."

"Her detentions will soon be over!"

"Find a way to extend them."

" _What?_ " Severus drew back, appalled.

"She needs more time, Severus. You've known that. You didn't really expect to get rid of her by Christmas, did you?"

Severus let out an exasperated growl before turning on his heel to exit the Headmaster's office. The old man was beyond infuriating, using him for whatever means necessary, and all Severus could do was take it yet again. Take it spoon fed like a helpless child and swallow it down; take what little was offered to him in return for his countless selfless services for the benefit of everyone but himself. And no one knew; not a soul...

 _Always the same!_ he reflected with bitterness, his mind turning to the redhead he had once adored, now dead and gone. _All my fault... All my doing... It's the least I deserve..._

Severus took his leave, his cursed thoughts following him down the staircase. Just as he reached the bottom step, a heat penetrated his left arm and he winced, stumbling back against the wall. "Damn it!" he griped, clutching his arm to conceal the Dark Mark, though no one could possibly have seen, as it was covered by the fabric of his coat.

The Dark Lord was beckoning, and he would have to answer. Immediately. _Lily... When will I ever have peace? When will it ever be enough? Lily._

Severus Disapparated on the spot, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

* * *

"Professor, I want you to level with me."

Hermione crossed her arms and stared him down, ready for a fight. Snape, however, showed no indication of bringing himself into a conversation. "I will do no such thing, Granger. In this classroom, and during your detentions with me, you play by _my_ rules."

"Fair enough. I can still ask questions though."

"And I can refuse to answer them." Snape let out a weary sigh and kept his focus on the large book in his lap as he read by candlelight at his desk.

Hermione let out a low grumble. "Is there any legitimate reason that we can't have some natural light in here? It's nine o'clock in the morning, but it feels like nighttime."

Severus peered up at her—his pallid face entirely void and blank—and without tearing his intense gaze from hers, he lifted a hand into the air and one of the shutters opened a crack. Then he returned to his book, giving her no further regard.

"Why must you keep your rooms so dark?"

"Because I like it," he replied dryly.

"Well, I suppose it suits you," she mumbled under her breath. Snape heard, and a trickle of a smile emerged despite his best attempts to conceal it. He didn't, however, look up from his reading material.

"So, what's this all about then?"

"Very vague, Granger. You will have to be more specific."

"You know what I'm talking about!" Hermione moved her hands to her hips, forgetting for the moment that she was talking to her instructor.

"As it so happens, I don't." Snape turned the page of his book. "What is it?"

"Listen, I was completely sidelined by you yesterday. Obviously _something's_ going on here that involves me, and I have every right to know what it is. I should know what I'm being set up for!"

Snape finally met her eyes again with a slight countenance of intrigue. "Set up?" he repeated, emotionless.

"Teaching me about forbidden Dark Arts magic, giving me access to banned material, Horcruxes, researching obtainable quests for immortality, looking up ingredients to offset Nagini's venom..." She paused. "All right, well, maybe that last bit is irrelevant, but the others are a tad alarming, I'd say!"

"Really? Why is that?"

" _What?_ "

"Granger, I've already explained to you _why_. Perhaps I wanted to take advantage of your clever mind to further my own research. Perhaps I am at liberty to do so since you're serving detention with me. Perhaps your combat skills are substantial, but not up to the standards I'd prefer, which is why I thought you might benefit from learning about the kind of magic you will actually encounter once you're out there and not within the comfortable confinements of this school. Perhaps those mindless friends of yours will need all the help and protection they can get, and you will have to provide them with it. Perhaps you are the only one who will be capable of doing so. Merlin knows how Potter has managed to survive this long; it astonishes me daily."

_And the Chosen Brat has no idea that I've been involved in that tedious process. The ungrateful little swine._

"And need I remind you, Granger," Snape continued, "that you were the one who asked for my direction? Who asked to learn more about the Dark Arts? You still have my books in your possession, and we both know you're still heavily engrossed in the material. Your intellectual curiosity would have it no other way, so stop being coy with me. It's tiresome."

Hermione shifted her weight to one side, having not expected the extended answer she received, nor the legitimacy of a lot of what he had said. "That all may be so, but - but you're still up to something."

Snape sighed again, this time with a lesser degree of annoyance, from exhaustion. "Aren't I _always_ up to something according to you? And spare me the details. They're inaccurate anyhow."

Hermione bit her lip, growing increasingly uneasy. "Not always, sir. And I think I've figured out what you're doing..."

There was a long interlude in which Snape only stared at the now timid young woman in front of his desk. Finally, he slammed his book shut and leaned forward in his chair rather provocatively, folding his hands together on top of his desk. He gave her an incredulous look that twisted her stomach.

"What is the conclusion you've reached, Miss Granger?" he urged, his tone oozing with challenge and resentment.

The additional sarcasm behind his question only made the situation more uncomfortable from Hermione's perspective. She had been mentally prepping herself all morning to confront him, fully aware of the repercussions that might follow. She swallowed and kept her focus on the harsh outlines of the wizard's face before answering in a much quieter, less confident voice then she would have liked, "You're trying to convert me."

There was a faint alteration in Snape's eyes. Their depths seemed to harden, several conflicting emotions trickling from his stare to the rest of his pallid visage. The look that eventually broke the mold was a combination of dangerous anger, hostility, and insult.

" _What, Granger?_ " he drawled very cautiously, keeping his voice level and his body bound to his chair.

Hermione felt her confidence waning, but forced herself to repeat her conclusion. "I - I think you're trying to convert me into one of _them_."

" _Them?_ " he purred, and his upper lip twitched.

"Yes. You - You know what I'm talking about." She paused and bit her lip harder. "You're trying to turn me into a Death Eater— _like you_." To his surprise, she inched closer, never removing those radiant eyes from his. There was a mixture of fear and trepidation, but also a resolution that disquieted him, which Severus had never seen before in her. "I'm not entirely convinced that you've changed for the better, sir. I think you're still a Death Eater, and I think you just might be undermining us all, including me."

 _That was it._ Snape sprung out of his chair and around his desk so quickly and furiously that Hermione barely managed to step away. Her eyes expanded and her hand, unprepared, tried to reach for her wand, but it was too late.

" _How dare you!_ " Snape cried, much louder than the register he typically used.

Suddenly, he grabbed her forcefully by the arms and shoved her back against the wall, his stark form towering over her, the shock of his fury mere inches from her face. Hermione's breathing stalled, but Snape's was heavy. She could feel the terrible convulsions of his grasp too, the extent of his rage manifesting all of his body. The unsettling curl of his upper lip and the animal-like snarl that followed sent a shiver down Hermione's back, but there was nothing she could do but endure whatever wrath was about to come crashing down upon her.

" _How dare you!_ " Snape repeated, and for the first time that Hermione had ever witnessed, he actually sounded unsteady, not in control. "How dare you make such an accusation about me! Do you even have the slightest comprehension of what you're talking about, you idiot girl? You know _nothing_ about me! Nothing at all about who I am! You and your Gryffindor half-wits are all alike, always drawing stupid, foolish conclusions without any ounce of proof and opening your bloody mouths without any thought to what comes out! If you were in Slytherin, Granger, I'd have sent you packing ages ago! Consider yourself fortunate that you're not in my house! You are not only naïve and ridiculously simpleminded, _you are ignorant, prejudiced, and not nearly as intelligent as I once took you for!_ "

Hermione gawked, terrified and frozen, her body pressed up against the trembling professor's without the ability to move or shift an inch. She couldn't fight his clutches, nor did she dare challenge his outburst. All she could do was stare wide-eyed into that hard, pale, intimidating exterior in utter bewilderment.

After a moment of searching his black eyes for a hopeful emotion that wasn't enmity, Hermione found traces of something else she hadn't expected. The anger was unmistakable, but there was also the indication of what she had never, ever expected to find from Professor Snape: pain. The glimpse of hurt behind his colorless eyes stirred something horrible inside her, churning her stomach into twisted knots.

"Sir, I..." she stuttered, expecting to be interrupted again, but he seemed just as paralyzed and unable to speak.

In that moment, Hermione questioned everything she had assumed about the miserable, unhappy, rejected man now trembling in front of her. Somewhere along the lines, she had made a wrong turn. She mustered what little composure she still had, and after a stifling pause, whispered very softly, "I'm sorry... I thought..."

Her apology didn't seem to reach him. Instead, Snape's eyes went lifeless again. He threw his hands off of her, his breathing still excited and strained. "Go. Get out of my sight."

Without another word, Snape swished his cloak around and stalked up the stone steps to his office, slamming the door behind him with colossal force. Hermione heard the glass windows vibrate behind the shutters, and she stood rigid for several more minutes, her entire form momentarily disabled.

_You were wrong, Hermione. Dead wrong._


	10. A Contradiction in Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 10: A Contradiction in Terms**

"You did _what?_ "

"Harry, please!"

"'Mione... That's... Wow!" His lips curled into a wicked grin, but Hermione only felt sickened. She had been racking over what happened for hours, before Harry and Ginny finally made their appearance in the common room after their Quidditch practice.

Snape had left her alone in the classroom when he disappeared into his office and, naturally, never came back out. Hermione had waited around for almost a half hour but when he didn't reappear, she reluctantly dismissed herself. Now that her friends were present, their reactions weren't making her feel any better about the situation. Ginny, at least, didn't look as pleased, but she was undoubtedly surprised.

"You insinuated that Snape's still a Death Eater _to his face?_ " Ginny's bright eyes widened, dumbfounded.

"I did. And I shouldn't have."

Harry leaned forward on the sofa. " _Why not?_ We've all been saying it behind the sod's back for years. Everyone knows what he really is, 'Mione. I'm proud of you!"

"Dumbledore trusts him, Harry. There _has_ to be some value in that."

" _Bollocks!_ " came Ron's angry growl from somewhere behind them, causing Hermione to startle. He took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace next to Ginny, staring up at her with what had become a traditional scowl. He and Lavender weren't getting on well anymore, and everyone sensed it was only a matter of time before they called it quits. At the moment, however, Hermione was too preoccupied to give that any thought.

"No one trusts Snape," Ron continued bitterly, "and for good reason. I'm not entirely convinced Dumbledore trusts him either, for that matter. The sorry bastard might as well have the label 'Death Eater' plastered along that ugly, crooked snout of his. He is what he is, 'Mione, and no one in their right mind is going to believe the lies he's feeding you. I hope _you_ don't believe them."

Hermione felt trapped, wedged between her former beliefs, even though they had never been as concrete as Harry's or Ron's, and what she witnessed in Snape's eyes that acquainted her with a very _different_ story, somehow reversing years of misguided conclusions they had all drawn in one terribly sad, unspoken look. Hermione had never felt more confused, disheartened, or guilty, and her uncertainties were visible to everyone.

"'Mione," Ron murmured, sounding quiet affronted and astounded. "You _do_ believe him..."

"I don't know! I mean, yes, maybe I do... A little."

" _Why?_ "

It was Harry who pressed her now, and the reflection behind the intense green eyes was apprehensive, with also a twinge of resentment. Hermione understood why, but it didn't lessen how she felt.

"I don't know, Harry, but you weren't there today. You didn't see his face... When Snape reacted, I - I could see it. I think he was genuinely hurt by what I said..."

It was a long time before anyone said anything. Finally, Ginny brushed her red hair off her shoulders, looking far less abrasive than the boys, only troubled. "But Hermione, surely Snape _has_ to know that these rumors have been flying around about him for years. Why would he act so surprised or, um, hurt that _you_ confronted him about it? I'm sure he's overheard other students making the same accusations before. This can't be the first time. His reaction doesn't make much sense."

"Perhaps... Unless he's just had enough with everyone gossiping about him behind his back, especially if the rumors aren't true. Merlin knows we've talked about him enough to cause an angry reaction like this." Hermione shook her head, her curls brushing her back. She stared down at her intertwined hands, feeling more and more ashamed. "I don't know, you guys, but I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have said any of it. It was wrong."

"No, it wasn't!" Ron retorted, and the frighteningly livid expression that contorted his freckled face was not reminiscent of the person she knew. "I wish _I'd_ said it! I wish I could've seen his reaction, for that matter! I'd have taken pride in seeing the old bat squirm!"

"That's cruel and insensitive, Ron!" she retorted in a hushed, strained whisper. "I don't think he's a Death Eater after all. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm willing to put my prejudices aside after what happened today. I never, ever want to make a wrong assumption about someone like that again, not after the way he looked at me. I think we've _all_ misjudged Snape, and it's high time we stopped insinuating about him. I think we should just leave him alone..."

Hermione had no idea where this resolution was coming from, but she meant every word. Ginny glanced sidelong at Harry, but he was sitting back, his lips pressed tightly together. Ron, however, reacted with dramatic flair and narrowed his eyes.

"Wow, Snape's detentions really _are_ having an effect on you. Did the git sneak something into your pumpkin juice recently?"

"Stop it, Ron! Your poking fun at the matter isn't helping!"

"I'm not trying to poke fun! I'm trying to get you to see how psychotic you sound! So what, you now think Snape's _good?_ After the countless things we've heard and seen, you actually believe the Bat of the Dungeons, who's treated us all like the scum off the bottom of his shoes for six years, is on _our_ side? On the side of the Order? On the side of Dumbledore? _You've gone bloody mad, 'Mione!_ "

Hermione felt her eyes tearing up and quickly shot to her feet. "If you had seen the reaction in Snape's eyes—if you'd seen what I saw, Ron—I think you might question a thing or two about him! You, too, Harry! I don't care if my opinion's unpopular; I don't care if you don't believe me, for that matter. I just think we should cut the man a break already! Haven't we been wrong about him enough already? I never insinuated that Snape's good or bad, Ron, and I'm certainly _not_ crazy! You can go to hell!"

With that, Hermione didn't dare wait around and give any of them a chance to rebuff her. She stomped off to her room, leaving her friends dumbfounded and disquieted.

* * *

Hermione didn't sleep much that weekend, or much the following week. D.A.D.A. lessons were more strenuous and demanding than ever, and Snape was making sure to come down hard on all of them, as if his very life depended on it. He was teaching them more obscure nonverbals, but with that progress brought harsher criticism than they had ever received. It brought out the worst in Harry and Ron especially, who were at the point of griping about the Potions Master nonstop. Midway through the week, Hermione had already had enough of their constant whining and resolved to just ignore them for the time being.

As for her detentions, Snape was as aloof and cold to her as ever, and what little effect she seemed to have garnered in getting him to talk more in the past week or so now felt for naught. By the end of her Monday evening session, she was ready to accept her blunder and apologize. She didn't trust Snape much more than before, but that glimpse of pain she had seen in his eyes, because of _her_ , wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe she was wrong, but her heart told her that he had been gravely affronted by her accusations, and she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

 _Isn't he used to hearsay by now?_ Hermione tried to persuade herself, though rather sadly, before entering the classroom Wednesday night. She had been asking that question for days to no personal satisfaction.

Snape hadn't spoken much to her at all earlier that week and instead put her to work on several potion orders. When she asked questions, he refused to answer, sometimes not acknowledging her at all, as if she were invisible. Hermione concluded that she probably deserved it, but it still made her feel low.

Hermione was prepared to receive the same level of treatment this evening, but she also wanted to apologize, regardless of what little difference it made. The Gryffindor in her could not, and would not, let the matter go until she had done so.

"Good evening, Professor," she greeted tentatively as she entered, but Snape, seated at his desk grading a pile of exams, said nothing.

Hermione sighed and quietly put down her belongings at her spot at the front of the room but refused to sit. She lingered by her desk for a moment, watching the dark wizard silently as he scratched furiously with his red-inked quill. Perhaps it was just the soft glow of the torches lighting the room, but she thought he looked quite tired, as if he hadn't managed much sleep the past few nights either. That made her guilty conscious worse as she hesitantly made her way over to him.

"What is it?" he snapped, after she stood in front of him rather awkwardly for a time.

"I - I wanted to apologize." Her voice was hushed and feeble, but Hermione knew he was listening, even if he was pretending not to. "I was out of line with what I said to you this past weekend. I just didn't know it at the time. I don't think my conclusions were entirely without grounds, you know. You make it quite difficult for people to read you and your intentions, you're not at all friendly, and you can be ruthlessly unkind to the point of abuse when you want to."

_Hermione, what the hell? You're getting off track. He doesn't need to hear this._

"Um, what I'm trying to say is that I confronted you based on what I've perceived from _you_ the last few weeks, and, I suppose, for much longer than that. You were right though. I _don't_ know your history, I _don't_ know your circumstances, and my friends and I should give you a chance. I realize now that I misjudged you. I'm still not entirely sure what's going on here, and I really wish you'd just be straightforward with me, but I know I offended you— _deeply_ —and I'm very sorry for that, sir."

A tediously uncomfortable silence followed before Snape finally put down his quill and made eye contact. He stared hard and severely in a manner that made her blood run cold. There was no shred of evidence to her that she was forgiven for her blunder.

"Your detentions will not be concluded by Christmas break," Snape stated at last.

Hermione blinked, her face turning from apprehension to befuddlement in a flash. "What?"

"I won't repeat myself, Granger. Your hearing is not impaired. I cannot, however, account the same conclusion for your mind."

Hermione brought her lips together to keep from spitting out something dreadful that would surely make her situation worse. "How long?" she managed, clenching her teeth.

"Until I see fit to dismiss you."

"Because of what I said?" Now Hermione's anger was building, and she momentarily forgot about her apology.

"Search that careless conscience of yours, Granger, and you'll find your answer."

 _Because I opened my bloody mouth!_ her mind screamed. _Because I confronted him! Damn the miserable, mean-spirited louse!_

"You mean to tell me that no one's ever brought these accusations to you before?" she challenged heatedly, ignoring the warning in the back of her mind. "You make it relatively easy to draw such conclusions, you know! It's not _my_ fault you choose to be so secretive, vindictive, and bitter against everything that moves or breathes!"

"You're making it worse for yourself," Snape hissed dangerously. There was a furious glimmer in his irises that warned Hermione to desist, but she wouldn't concede so easily.

" _What?_ " she snapped back. "For having an opinion about you? For actually having the nerve to challenge and confront you? For having misgivings about what you're teaching me so secretively and in private, and for which I'm not permitted to tell anyone? For not _ever_ being forthright or honest, even when I've asked you repeatedly to tell me the truth?"

"Miss Granger—"

" _NO!_ I've had it with your nasty attitude and all this secrecy!"

"Granger," Snape growled louder, but she interrupted him again.

"You have no one to blame but yourself for the world misjudging you, if that _is_ indeed the case! I shouldn't be punished for thinking less of you when _you_ bring these impressions and accusations down upon yourself!"

Snape rose from his chair and gradually hunched over his desk. Hermione, likewise, inclined closer, no longer afraid or leery of the lean, powerful wizard just inches away. "Don't start on me again," he sniped quietly. "You've insulted me for the last time. _Be silent_."

"No! I won't! Not until this is resolved! I won't serve detention with you after Christmas break! I won't do it! I'll go to Dumbledore if I have to!"

Snape's sneer shifted into a most wicked smirk, and his eyes themselves danced with provocation. "Go ahead," he prodded. "Be my guest. After all, it was _his_ idea that I not let you go..."

_Bad idea, Severus. Desist. Now._

Hermione stepped back as if she had received a blow to the face. " _What?_ "

_Damn it. Can't go back now._

"Surprised, Granger? Well, go on then! Run to Dumbledore and see if the Headmaster takes pity on you like the emotionally weak Gryffindor that you're behaving like. Or you can stay and serve your detentions and perhaps get something _useful_ out of my instructions, though I'm starting to think you're a failure and beyond my capabilities, just like the rest of your sorry lot."

Hermione wanted to move, but her brain had come to a screeching halt. She opened her mouth and tried to retort, but words escaped her mental grasp.

"Anything else?" Snape shot her a glare that heeded her not to interrupt him again. "Which will it be, Granger? Time is of the essence and I have no intention of wasting it on _you_." To her surprise, his eyes unexpectedly softened, the shadows underneath his eyes growing more pronounced against the harshness of the candlelight. What came next nearly electro-shocked her on the spot. "I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you saw fit to do so, but your continuous need to undo me ends here and now." He collapsed into his chair and diverted his attention back to his grading, leaving Hermione mentally stranded in the midst of their argument.

"So you and Dumbledore... You're in this together, whatever this is?"

Snape peered up at her again, only this time with weariness instead of indignation. "I have told you many times. Your repeated effort to search for some hidden undermining secret is one of many disappointments I'm discovering in you."

 _Not true, Severus_ , his conscience berated him against his will. _Stop it._

Hermione, however, took Snape at his word and inwardly felt more slighted by his latest comment than she had in the past by any previous brash remarks the man had thrown. She couldn't fathom why, but it hurt her more deeply than he probably knew or cared...

"Let me spell it out for you, Granger." He sighed heavily, before responding in a much calmer tone. "Things are in motion that Dumbledore and I are privy to that you're not; the same for Potter. You know of the Prophecy; you know of the gravity of what lies ahead for him. He can't afford to be distracted or weakened or incapacitated when the Dark Lord finally makes his move. You and Weasley are closest to him, but your fickle friend is proving himself to be a hopeless case. He lacks the much needed capacity to think collectedly in times of trial. His emotions always get the better of him in dire situations, and that is beyond dangerous. I've seen it in the classroom too many times to count, just as has been the case in your own little escapades. He's unreliable, unsteady, and a time bomb waiting to explode.

" _You_ , on the other hand, are Potter's confidant, but have proven your ability to use your cool intellect when times are desperate. Dumbledore is not a fool, and neither am I. We know who the brain of this outfit is. You're far more capable a witch than Weasley or Potter will ever amount to, but don't let that go to your head. If there's one person Potter can actually count on in the months to come—who Dumbledore and I believe to be the most reliable, the most skilled, and the most resourceful—it is _you_ , Miss Granger, and you need to be well-prepared and three steps ahead at all times. Do you understand?

"You're capable and clever, but you still need more work. Dumbledore wants me to assist you for as long as it takes, until I believe you're ready and have garnered all the knowledge you need. That is why I'm extending your 'detentions,' Granger, although, even without the unwanted task that's been thrown in my lap, I would willingly slap you with another detention for your unjust, derogatory outburst the other day. _There_. Are you satisfied?"

Snape took a deep breath, reflecting briefly on what he had disclosed. _Not the entire truth either, but it will suffice for now._

After a moment, Hermione's mouth caught up with her mind and she offered Snape a peculiar, rather hushed remark he hadn't expected. "I was right..."

"Pardon?"

"I - I thought... Well, after what happened, I thought that maybe... I suspected that this had something to do with Harry; that perhaps I was being recruited for something. I guess I just didn't think you'd actually..."

When her voice trailed off, leaving her sentence incomplete, Snape's scowl grew more severe. "You didn't think I'd be capable of helping you, of helping anyone, for that matter." The remark was both direct and unforgiving, and the guilty look Hermione projected showcased every reservation she had held without saying a word. Snape wanted to gripe, but he was far too spent to show any more feeling.

"Granger, let me make something clear to you: I didn't ask for this task. I certainly didn't want to work with you individually, but your lack of attention the past several weeks was very troubling to Dumbledore, who puts a great deal of faith in you, though I sometimes question why.

"Then, when you had the foolish audacity to try and hex me, you left me with no choice. I'm assisting you because it was _requested_ of me, so don't get any ridiculous ideas of grandeur implanted into that skull of yours. Make no mistake: I don't want to work with you. McGonagall could have done so easily enough. And frankly, I have enough to do right now; but, nevertheless, it must be done, and so it shall."

 _Another fabricated truth_ , Severus reflected sourly, trying to bury his real thoughts as quickly as possible.

"I - I'm sorry to trouble you then, Professor."

Snape's vision came back into focus at the melancholy he heard in Hermione's response, and a flash of regret washed over him, before the unemotional exterior resurfaced. He wasn't sure if Hermione had caught the unspoken resentment, but he was now perplexed and more exhausted than ever. Instead of apologizing, something he was inexperienced with and not at all good at, he ran his long fingers through his hair uncomfortably.

"It's fine. Just don't test me like that again. It's not appreciated, and your presumptions about me are incorrect. You don't know me."

Hermione gazed at the floor, no longer able to look at him. "You're right... I don't."

Snape tried his best to ignore the obvious pain mangled with guilt on Hermione's tortured face and cleared his throat. "You can resume your readings, or if you have more pressing homework to do, I will leave you this sole opportunity tonight to do so."

Hermione peered up at him solemnly at first, but then her eyes grew gentler. "No, I'll read, thank you, sir."

She walked back over to her spot and resumed sifting through the pages of one of his Dark Arts books and did not bother Snape again for the rest of the night. For the first time in his teaching career, and in a befuddling moment that threatened to visibly shatter Snape's reserved nature, he veritably detested that the young know-it-all never saw fit to badger or disrupt him with further questions.

* * *

Severus moaned into his pillow and abruptly jerked his head. His breathing was powerful as he mumbled something inaudible into the lonely darkness of his personal quarters. His body convulsed beneath the covers, his skin dripping with sweat and soaking the soft linen sheets, far too deep into his nightmares to awaken.

After several more minutes, however, Severus let out an alarming cry—one that would spook anyone nearby if his muffling charm wasn't in place—and shot up in bed. His hair was disheveled and fell all around his eyes, and his wand, which had been on the nightstand, was gripped in his hand and pointed at nothing.

Severus grumbled as he soaked in his surroundings, realizing that there was no threat and no imminent danger. Not now, at any rate. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the beads of sweat on his brow and the dampened sheets beneath him, and gave a disgusted snarl.

After throwing back the covers, he fumbled for his black night robe in the darkness, not entirely coherent despite his abilities to awaken far more quickly than any normal human being. Once he found the familiar fabric, he fastened it around himself and stumbled his way to the loo. He switched on the faucet and splashed water onto his face to awaken himself. The cold liquid stung when it hit his skin, and he growled at the terribly frigid sensation it brought. He scrubbed the water harshly over and over again, however, and ran his wet fingers through his already dampened locks before turning the water off at last.

Severus chanced a quick glance into the mirror, a non-magical one, thankfully, only to find the reflection of a very pallid and very unhealthy-looking man staring back; a harsh and unforgiving sight that there ever was. He had finally gotten his breathing under control and was able to stare more intensely at his unsightly features: his bloodshot eyes, the blue-tinted skin beneath them, the abnormally large nose that he loathed, and the thrash marks visible on his exposed collar bone and upper chest area. No one ever saw those. He went out of his way to make sure that his scars were always covered.

Severus turned away in shame and exhaled. Flooding images of his latest round of nightmares came sweeping back to him in his now conscious state, and he squeezed his eyes shut, even though it would make no difference. The flashing pictures contained nothing but death, torture, destruction—recent and old, past and present—and they never ceased, heightening the insomnia and weariness that followed him everywhere, in all manners of the day.

 _The torture's getting worse_ , Severus reflected, as he gingerly rubbed the back of his neck and groaned out loud. _They're becoming more frequent and far too enjoyable to him._

Severus winced as he continued to untie the excruciating knot at the nape of his neck. His body ached and throbbed from last night's latest torture round with his fellow Death Eaters. As the Dark Lord's followers bought more time, they only grew increasingly less patient, as did their master himself. They were all paying for it in one way or another, including Severus, though the ill-treatment he received wasn't as severe as some of the others. Still, he _did_ pay.

_Oh, yes... Small favors for the price I pay._

Severus had his fill of these incidents long ago, but it was unavoidable. Dumbledore knew it, and so did he. He would have to stomach whatever the Dark Lord did to him—whatever he and his followers did to others—and simply take it and pretend to seek pleasure in the grotesque. He was, of course, quite used to this delicate game of musical chairs, and was numb to the horrors his eyes bore witness to. But it still sickened him in his dreams. It was only in the lull of sleep that they came vividly alive again, berating his conscience, screaming at him in fury for the countless unforgivable things he had done, took part in, or watched and did nothing about.

 _It will only get worse_. He snarled aloud and hunched over the sink, staring hard and rather revoltingly at his reflection again. How he hated himself—entirely, unconditionally, without question. _You pathetic sod, Severus. Such is everything about you. You are nothing; a means to an end. No use in hoping for better._

Severus exited the loo, returning to his bed, sluggish and depleted. Whipping out his wand, he quickly cleansed the sheets and removed his briefs, returning to bed naked and exposed. He didn't care. He wouldn't fall back asleep any time soon—probably not at all for the rest of the night—but he would lie awake regardless, brooding as he so often did, until he finally had to get up and face the obnoxious dunderheads who routinely threatened any small peace he had.

 _Perhaps Hermione Granger's humorously off-kilter ideas will make this pointless day more bloody interesting_ , he considered, stifling a yawn as he stared up at the ceiling. _Hermione Granger... So much is expected of you... I hope you and Potter are ready for what lies ahead, and what I will do..._

_Lily... What am I to do?_

* * *

Hermione was finding it increasingly more difficult to sleep. She was lying awake for hours on end, simply staring at the top of her canopy bed, or at one of the moving photographs on her nightstand.

She didn't like thinking about Professor Snape. Her mind was giving him far too much attention these days, and that in itself alarmed her enough. In fact, she was giving more thought to the Slytherin Head of House than to her beloved Ron, or even to Harry. She was quite relieved that her thoughts were entirely private and that no one suspected anything out of the ordinary. She would be mortified if they knew. It wasn't natural; _it wasn't right_.

Not that her thoughts were inappropriate, really. She just found the longer her detentions went on, the more intriguing the professor became, even if they were always going head-to-head with each other. She really didn't know any more about him, but in the past few weeks he had talked to her more than he had the entire six years she had been at school. And she found that one-on-one, the wizard was much more tolerable, slightly less irritable, and though still snarky and downright cruel at times, there was something _worthy_ about him. Genuine, too. She couldn't put her finger on it.

 _You need to stop, Hermione. You're supposed to be using these detentions to your advantage, remember? You're supposed to be digging for information._ In truth, she was doing just that, but the progress she had made so far was tediously slow. The more she was in the dark wizard's company, the more elusive and interesting he became, and her intentions flew to the back of her mind. _Enough, Hermione!_ her conscience shouted. _Go to sleep already. Nothing good can come of this..._


	11. Fresh Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

****

**Chapter 11: Fresh Observations**

"I've been thinking..."

"Yes, my Lord?"

Severus kept his hands firmly behind his back, not daring to push Voldemort further. It was just the two of them, along with the ever present Nagini, both of whom were circling Severus as they so often did. Normally, his followers cowered before the snake and the mere proximity of their overpowering master, but not Severus. He would never allow himself to be so belittled as to shrink from a maniac who couldn't sniff out a traitor two feet in front of his ugly face.

"We both know Harry Potter and his band of followers won't go down without a fight. Once Dumbledore's out of the picture, the boy's allies may dwindle, but there will remain many who will resist us, probably until the bitter end. What of those closest to him?"

Severus lifted his head a little, eying the Dark Lord inquisitively, though he already suspected where this conversation would drift. "My Lord?"

" _The Mudblood_." Voldemort stopped circling and faced his obedient servant head on. "Are you gaining her trust? Is she coming round?"

Severus didn't bat an eyelash. "I believe so. She is not as intelligent as her reputation precedes."

Voldemort sneered gleefully, his eerie slits for eyes stretching across his translucent skin. "And Dumbledore?"

"He thinks I'm helping her for the same reasons. He doesn't suspect anything, my Lord, I can assure you. He's as much in the dark as ever."

"I'm glad to hear it. You have done well, Severus. _Exceedingly well_. I am impressed."

Severus bowed, grateful that his hair acted as a shield to hide his disgust with himself. "Thank you, my Lord."

"The girl will set a wonderful trap for Potter. I hope you will gain her every confidence, Severus. Much is riding on her cooperation, and your ability to fulfill your end of the bargain."

"I will, my Lord. She may be tougher to break than most her age, but I believe she is already beginning to trust me. You have my word."

"Words can be broken, Severus." Voldemort's quiet, eerie hiss of a reply lingered in the air, filling the room with an uncomfortable tension. He turned away from Severus and glided towards the crackling fireplace, staring into the magnetic flames, his countenance contemplative. "The Mudblood is our access to Potter. The other, as you have already elaborated, will be easily disposable. He's a pureblood, you say?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Such a pity... To be of noble blood but of no particular value. Oh, well. He is of little threat to our operations. The clever Mudblood though... _She_ is our direct link to Potter. There can be no mistakes."

"Do I have your confidence, my Lord?" Severus pressed.

Voldemort turned his head and stared at the dark wizard without regard, but then Severus Snape was his only follower who dared to make such inquiries. It was something the Dark Lord seemed to revel in, rather than dismiss.

" _You do, Severus_ ," he answered slowly, though his response made Severus's skin crawl beneath the confinement of his frock coat. "You will gain the girl's trust and give her up to me when the time is right. You have my confidence, Severus, _so do not disappoint me_."

* * *

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Snape tossed a handful of Ashwinder eggs into his cauldron, his attention cast away from her as had been the case for the past hour or so. He sounded disinterested as usual, but Hermione was more than accustomed to his sour drawl by this point.

"You asked me some time ago if I was a religious person. I was just wondering... Are you?"

Snape stiffened for a fleeting moment before the muscles in his back relaxed, and he slowly turned around to face her, staring with heightened suspicion. "Of what interest are my personal beliefs to _you?_ "

Hermione frowned. "It was only a question. You asked me. I was just returning the inquiry." She stopped before quickly adding, "I meant no offense."

Snape saw the young lady's cheeks turn a bright rose—visible despite the darkened room—and she hastily turned a page in her book and bowed her head of furious curls. Was she really foolish enough to try to pull that stunt on him and think that it worked?

Snape was silent for a time, blatantly staring at Hermione's flushed face, or what little he could see of it, before answering matter-of-factly, "I am not."

Hermione peered up at him, unaware that he had still been considering her question. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not a religious person."

"Oh."

Snape flinched. "Does that disappoint you?"

"What? No. I just..."

" _What_ , Granger?"

"You don't celebrate Christmas then?"

Snape threw down his stirring rod, turned around completely, and crossed his arms, giving her his direct focus and attention. He wasn't cross but rather indifferent.

"I see no reason to celebrate a holiday I do not believe in."

Hermione's spirals fell to one side as she considered him thoughtfully. "Oh... Are you an atheist then?"

Snape shrugged, apathetic. "I am of no particular belief system."

"Oh." Hermione wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that. Perhaps it was just his middling reply, but it didn't sit well with her one bit. "Well, I confess, I do love Christmas. It's all quite warm and wonderful and magic in itself, really."

Snape snorted. "I thought you weren't religious?"

Hermione shifted in her chair. "To be honest, I don't really know what I believe in. I... I'm still trying to figuring that out, I suppose." She paused again, following the soft, subtle movements of his eyes as they regarded her. "Will you be sticking around here over the Christmas break then?"

Hermione already knew the answer. It was hardly a secret that the reclusive wizard always remained at Hogwarts over the holidays, probably over the summer months as well, though no one really knew that for sure. As the student body so often snickered, the miserable louse 'had no social life.' Where else would he go? What on earth would he do? Who would want his company? He had no love interest—an unfathomable idea to everyone—and certainly no presents to buy.

Hermione admittedly never really gave the man's reclusive existence much thought in the past, but now she found that it did, in fact, bother her, and the comments that still floated around about him this time of year disheartened her to hear. _But she shouldn't care_. It was none of her business how the professor chose to celebrate or not celebrate the holidays—with or without company—and he would surely say so if she were to be so bold as to push the subject.

 _After all, Hermione, it isn't like Snape cares about what_ you _think of him or what he does in his spare time_. At least, that's what she thought.

"Why do my holiday plans matter?" Snape surveyed her more, with obvious distrust.

"Nothing. Except, if you will be here, um, well, I will be, too. And I thought that perhaps, maybe, we could make some more headway on researching about these Horcruxes? Or perhaps discuss these textbooks in more detail? I still have questions for you. I've almost completed the third book. I can have them back to you probably as early as the weekend."

Hermione knew this was a gamble. She didn't dislike Snape anymore, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to the prospect of spending more time with him either. Hermione carefully watched the contortions of his face manifest, the wrinkles in his brow and around his mouth growing more severe.

"Why on earth would you be staying here over break, Granger?"

The question was soft spoken, especially for him, and Hermione hadn't expected it. "Well, my parents are traveling abroad right now and were thinking about extending their holiday in Prague. I really didn't want to impose on them or force them to cut their vacation short; they really never get time off to spend together anymore. And I'm not really interested in spending Christmas in a foreign place either. I prefer the usual comforts. So I opted to stay here over break."

"What about the Burrow?"

Hermione eyed him inquisitively. These weren't the sort of responses she had anticipated. She expected a snarky put down, and he still hadn't addressed her proposition yet.

"Um, well, I'm planning to spend Christmas Day there, but I'd prefer to stay here the remainder of break. It's just easier that way."

If Hermione were being honest with herself, she really didn't want to see Ron or risk running into Lavender, if the prissy girl decided to pay him a visit. And after his collection of recent outbursts towards her, she didn't care for his company all that much anyhow. It was all still too raw and painful.

"Very well."

Hermione blinked. "Oh! Really?"

Snape rolled his dark eyes and sighed heavily. "Would you refrain from answering me back with questions all the time, Granger? It's driving me mad. You asked, and I've agreed. So, there you have it."

With that, he swiftly turned his back on her and continued working his potion, adding ingredients to his latest attempt at a successfully revised anti-venom. Hermione unconsciously stared at his back, discerning traces of his moving shoulder blades beneath the tightness of his coat. His charcoal tresses fell loosely about his neck, the long strands swaying with every small turn of his head. Hermione hadn't really paid attention to the professor's hair much; it never seemed to be a very attractive feature of his. But in such dismal lighting, and with the array of candles stationed around his work area that now put him in a gentler spotlight, Hermione scrutinized him for quite some time without realizing it, and found the sight actually a bit _arresting_...

Snape's locks had always looked greasy, limp, and altogether unflattering. But something had changed. The black strands, straggly and rather coarse-looking at a distance, on closer inspection were softer, particularly against the serene orange and yellow hues of candlelight. They were wavy near the tips and unpredictably curled in every different direction like an array of grape vines.

Was he showering more or something? Was he actually putting forth some kind of an effort, or was that all in her head? Studying the fine strands, Hermione unknowingly found herself wondering what they might feel like to touch...

"So why the interest in my holiday plans?"

Hermione felt as if she had hit a cement wall. Her delicate eyes flickered, bringing her back to her senses. "Come again?"

"You seem to be taking a rather _curious_ interest in my private affairs all of a sudden. Why is that?"

Hermione couldn't tell if he was just being his sober, moody self or perhaps—if she dared allow herself to believe— _playful_ , but the latter seemed wholly impossible, so she answered solemnly, "I was just making conversation. That's all."

"Indeed."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Snape snorted at her with his back still turned. "Only that you, Potter, and Weasley have had it out for me for a fairly long time; I take it that your questions about my personal life are in another relentless pursuit to uncover something scandalous about me. Am I off base in my assumption?"

Hermione was baffled. "What? _Oh, honestly!_ Can't anyone simply have a civilized conversation with you?"

She hadn't meant to sound so harsh; nevertheless, Snape shifted his body away from his cauldron to make eye contact again, and the normally listless irises were now surging with anger, very much alive.

"Depends on who it is."

"Huh?"

"Depends on the company," he repeated, this time with bite. "I am more than capable of conversing with whomever I please, as unenlightening and monotonous as I find most society to be. But if I _enjoy_ the company, which is, indeed, a rarity, I am not as difficult to talk to as your prejudiced Gryffindor mind takes me for."

Hermione didn't really know what to say to _that_. If this was the professor's way of making small talk, then, to her, it was most odd and unnatural, not to mention rude.

"Well, obviously you don't appreciate _my_ company if that's what you're trying to hint at with such subtly and politeness."

 _How foolishly blind you are_ , Snape thought to himself, sneering at the heated young female a few feet away, _or perhaps it is_ I _who am the fool..._

Snape quickly swallowed his contemplations and pierced her with his reply. "Very enlightening, Granger. Well done. And anyhow, you have yet to answer my question, so I shall assume for the time being that I am correct."

"No, you're not. You're wrong, and I didn't answer it because it was insulting."

" _Insulting?_ " Snape snipped acidly. "It's you and your mindless Gryffindor herd that have been trying to undo _me_ for years, so spare me how slighted _you_ feel, if you please!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, I'm not trying to 'undo' you!" Hermione slammed her book down and stared him down heatedly from across the divide that separated them. "I told you before, you bring these projections upon yourself! It's not my fault!"

"Don't take me for a fool." His tone of voice had grown considerably darker in such a short span of time, and Hermione didn't like it one bit. "And don't ask me about my private life again."

"Oh, well, pardon me! I _hardly_ care what you do with your free time. I was simply making small talk, something you clearly are no good at. I'll refrain in the future if it bothers you so much!"

She swiftly returned to her book, but the visible redness on her cheeks informed Snape that she was far too infuriated to give the textbook her undivided concentration. Her eyes may have been scanning the page, but he suspected that she wasn't reading a single word of it.

A weighty sigh escaped his mouth, and as he turned around to stir his potion again, he chanced one last fleeting glance in her direction. "It doesn't bother me," he grumbled, more to himself than to her.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud and hurriedly busied himself, not chancing another glimpse at her for fear of confirming that the young lady had, in fact, heard him. He wasn't aware of Hermione now gawking at him unabashedly, entirely stumped by what to make of those four little words.

* * *

"So is Ron annoyed?"

" _Of course_ , 'Mione," Harry whispered, taking a sip of cider as they huddled together in a corner, ignoring Slughorn's Christmas party for the time being. "I don't understand you two. Just cough it up and admit it to him already, would you?"

Hermione almost dropped her cup. " _What?_ "

"You have feelings for each other, 'Mione. It's obvious Ron feels the same; he's just being too much of a prat to admit it. _He likes you_. And Lavender's driving him mad. I think they're going to break up soon."

Hermione was receptive to this happy bit of news and couldn't help but smile; however, his recent nasty behavior was still heavily inscribed in her mind. Most nights, the reminder of him calling her a 'bitch' and a 'wench' were the last reflections she thought on before falling to sleep. She no longer cried, but that didn't mean she wasn't still terribly hurt by what happened. Ron had never bothered to apologize, and when he did actually manage to speak to her, as he had in the common room only a week ago, he acted as if nothing had happened, that she was wrong for trusting Professor Snape and was somehow deranged.

"I'm not interested in being Ron's rebound, Harry," she managed, after composing herself. "If that's how he truly feels, then let him break up with Lavender and come to me. I'm not about to wedge myself between two people in a relationship, even if it _is_ going nowhere."

Harry sighed and shook his messy, overgrown hair. "When are you two ever going to just let bygones be bygones?"

"When Ron stops being a foul git and grows up!"

"Um, you may be waiting a really long time then, 'Mione..."

" _Exactly_ , and I don't intend to wait!"

She was surprised by how much she meant that statement. In truth, her feelings for Ron had changed a bit. She still cared about him immensely, but it was no longer the silly crush it had started out as. Ron's erratic, testy behavior the past few months was bringing out a different side to her friend she didn't like, and it made him less appealing than before.

Regardless of his faults, however, a deep part of her pined after the redhead, but it was all starting to feel more or less for naught. Hermione wasn't a great beauty, she knew, even if she was entering into womanhood, and it didn't make her think that growing a pair of breasts meant she had any better chance with Ron than she had in the past.

Luckily, Luna skipped over to them at that moment, distracting them from the uneasy conversation that Hermione was desperate to end. "Harry! Hermione! What's the secret?"

"Nothing, Luna," Harry said a little too hastily. "I'm sorry for disappearing on you. Want to get some food, preferably before it's gone? I think I spotted Neville over there earlier."

"Sure." Her dreamy eyes cast themselves on Hermione and she smiled in that dazed-like manner she always displayed. "Is it about Ron?"

Hermione almost dropped her cup a second time. "Wha - What?"

"Oh, it's all right, Hermione. Everyone can tell you both like each other a lot. _Everyone knows_. I won't tell anyone though, if that's what you're worried about."

"Um, c'mon, Luna," Harry snickered, taking her by the hand and leading her away, into the throng of mingling students and staff. "Let's give 'Mione some breathing room."

Hermione was more than a tad grateful to be alone and let out the breath she had been holding in. She wanted to sink into that shadowy corner of the room and disappear after hearing what Luna announced.

_So everyone knows... Oh, Merlin, no!_

Hermione scanned the crowd to distract herself from the unsettling ramblings spinning about in her head. So far, she had successfully avoided her date for at least part of the evening, and was determined to keep her eye out for any sign of him when she spotted the trail of a familiar black cloak and equally dark tresses across the room, standing at the punchbowl with the most unlikely company: Professor Slughorn and Harry. Luna had apparently ventured off somewhere else.

Snape's back was turned, and Hermione could see his hands clasped together rather rigidly behind him as he listened to a very animated Slughorn relaying some undoubtedly boring story the wizard probably wasn't remotely interested in hearing. Harry looked just as awkward and displeased to be in Snape's presence. Whatever her new Potions instructor was jabbering on about to the pair of them, Snape and Harry were silent and still, not making much eye contact with one another; it made her unconsciously stifle a giggle.

_So childish._

Finally, Hermione chanced moving away from her little spot of sanctuary to dispose of her cup and perhaps eavesdrop on their conversation. She was inching along the wall to stay out of people's way and not be spotted, when she practically ran into the professor without warning. She stumbled backward and let out a small cry of surprise, almost tripping on her high heels, but felt a warm hand seize her arm to prevent her fall.

"You really should be more careful, Miss Granger!" she heard Snape rumble in that deeply irritated purr of his.

Gathering her balance, Hermione stared up at him awkwardly. "Erm, sorry, sir. I didn't see you there."

Snape promptly rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

"Well, your _extravagant_ attire doesn't exactly make you stand out from the shadows, does it?"

Hermione froze, realizing his pale hand was still wrapped around her exposed arm. He suddenly became aware at the same moment as she, and swiftly removed his grip, grunting with discomfort.

"If you intend on spending the evening sulking about in a corner, then why did you bother to come at all?"

Hermione blinked and searched his face. She couldn't make out anything tangible in those obsidian eyes, but she found herself transfixed, nevertheless.

"I was invited."

_What a stupid answer, Hermione._

Her reply caused a similarly dumbfounded reaction from Snape, albeit understated, that only made her want to disappear again. "Well, if you find conversing with yourself stimulating enough, then I won't deter you any longer."

"Hold on a second." Hermione reached out and grabbed hold of Snape's arm without thinking. He practically jumped back at her touch, as if he had been electrocuted, when Hermione immediately realized her blunder and removed her hand. "Sorry! Um, I just thought— Was there something you wanted to tell me, Professor?"

"Not at all." She hated the look of repulsion he was giving her now. "I am simply on my way out."

"Oh... You're leaving?"

She almost sounded disappointed, but Snape quickly concluded he must have misheard her. "So it would seem."

"Are you going to work on your research then?" She lowered her voice, adding, "Or the Horcruxes?"

Hermione couldn't seem to stop herself from sounding interested, and it only confused Snape more. He stepped back and eyed her over with apprehension.

"Miss Granger, you're not serving detention with me tonight. Shouldn't you consider that a blessing?"

Hermione instantly turned red. "I - I was just curious if you're making any headway, that's all..."

Those caramel eyes, however, betrayed her words easily enough. Snape could decipher the young Gryffindor like a textbook, just as he could when reading anyone's behavior, including that of the Dark Lord himself. _She was lonely, and desperate to converse with someone. Desperate enough to forgo a night with her friends in place of him._

Even if he understood the gravity of what lay behind that longing all too well, Snape wasn't about to show her any sympathy. _You can't, Severus, so don't._

He frowned and gave her a somber look. "You should go..."

"Pardon?"

"If you wish to avoid your date all evening, Miss Granger, then you should leave. Clearly, you're not enjoying yourself, and there's no legitimate reason for standing in a corner by yourself. It's a folly and rather absurd. I think you could make better use of your time."

_Damn it, Severus, you fool!_

Though he meant to offer her sincere advice, Hermione immediately went on the offense. She crossed her arms and her eyes turned cold, as frigid and unforgiving as his could be.

"I'm not avoiding anyone!"

" _Really?_ "

His sarcasm made Hermione's blood boil. "Yes! And what do you care—"

"Believe me, I don't."

"Figures!"

"Miss Granger—"

"I'll leave when I choose to leave, Professor. Thank you very much!"

"Suit yourself."

He gave her an obnoxiously confounding sort of smirk she didn't understand and, swishing his robes back with a graceful wave, stalked off, away from the merry holiday celebration, leaving Hermione standing flushed and foolishly alone in front of the entryway.

_Oh, that wretched, aggravating sod! For goodness' sake!_

Hermione let out a frustrated snarl and, despite another warning in her head, stomped off after him. He was purposely trying to agitate her now, she concluded easily enough, but if she could make better use of her time, then she would try to at least get more information out of the miserable man.

As Hermione rushed down a dimly lit corridor and rounded the corner, she caught sight of those wonderfully dramatic, surging robes again. Trying to remain discreet, Hermione trekked quickly but quietly down the hall and followed him all the way to the D.A.D.A. classroom.

She was about to call out to him and make her presence known when Snape, his back still turned, propped the door open with a loud bang and barked first, "There is no need to stalk me, Granger. You're no good at it. Remember what I told you? Subtly isn't your specialty."

Hermione jolted. The man really _did_ have eyes in the back of his head, something she and her friends had been complaining about for years. She cautiously approached him and waited once she reached the door, thinking he might turn around and acknowledge her presence. Instead, he strutted to the front of the room in silence, beckoning her to follow, or so she assumed.

Snape whipped his lean form around and stared her down properly, crossing his arms over his chest as he reclined against the front of his desk. "Wish to make better use of your time then?" he inquired with supposed indignation.

Hermione remained inert in the middle of the doorway, staring at him with a puzzled brow. "Sir?"

Snape looked away from her momentarily and sighed. He looked extremely tired again; more so than usual, she thought. He motioned for her to enter with a severe jerk of his head, which she did without delay.

"I sense you've had something pressing your mind for several weeks now, and I've had enough. _Out with it_."

Hermione was hardly prepared for a confrontation. That wasn't why she had come. She swallowed quickly and hitched a sharp breath. "Sir..."

"I haven't got all night," he snapped, and the severity of his words made her jolt.

"Fine! If you insist, I want to know why you came to my defense in the library."

Snape's shoulders caved. "Is _that_ what this is all about?"

"No, it's one of many things that's been troubling me, actually. Why did you do it?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Hermione forced herself to remain calm. "No..."

"It was vulgar and derogatory. I may not like you much, Granger, but no young lady should be addressed in that manner, especially when, in your case, it wasn't warranted. I don't care what the circumstances were, or why, but I overheard Weasley, and I put a stop to it. If he showed any indication of becoming a _real_ man in the future, he'd have never called you by such foul names in the first place. Happy?"

Despite her flushed cheeks, Hermione kept her composure intact. "But, surely, you've heard those ugly terms being thrown around here before? Lots of students use that kind of language on each other."

Snape's black eyes constricted. "Are you saying you _enjoy_ being called a 'bitch' and a 'wench,' Granger?"

"Of course not! Not at all! I'm just saying... I was surprised to see you come to _my_ defense is all."

Snape shuffled his feet and let out a low grunt. "Don't mistake my interference as some misplaced moment of grandeur. Any other teacher who overheard Weasley talking so revoltingly would have put a stop to it. What I did wasn't any different to what any other sensible person would have done."

"Oh. Well... Thank you, regardless." Hermione laced her hands together and examined them, too abashed to look him in the face anymore. "I - I've been meaning to thank you for some time—"

"Don't," Snape returned without feeling. "It is unnecessary."

Hermione finally met his hard eyes, disappointed and hurt, but she knew she shouldn't have expected anything gentler from him. "All right then," she concluded quietly.

"What else?"

Snape kept his arms firmly locked across his chest with his jaw set at an unpleasant angle. He was obviously taking no pleasure in any of this, but he had let her in and was the one pressing the discussion, so she willingly played along.

"The other week, when I was addressing you repeatedly and you didn't seem to hear or comprehend that I was there... What was that about?"

Snape surprised Hermione by immediately straightening up, his arms still intertwined, and a stern grimace formed along the lines of his mouth. The crease between his eyes also became more severe. In that instant, Hermione gathered that she had touched upon a nerve, _a very wrong nerve._

"That is none of your business," he hissed with a slightly elevated temper. "What makes you think you have the right to ask me these questions?"

Hermione took a half-step backward, genuinely frightened by the reaction she was receiving. "I'm not trying to pry, Professor. _Honestly_. I was only asking out of concern."

" _Concern?_ " The mockery he used sent a cold shiver down Hermione's back. "You mean to tell me that Hermione Granger—the insufferable know-it-all, the Chosen One's closest ally—would ask _me_ something out of 'concern'?" He lowered his eyes an inch or two, and the glare he shot her bordered on savagery. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

" _What?_ "

"I thought you showed actual signs of intelligence these past few weeks, but, alas, I stand corrected. You are as mindless as every other Gryffindor I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. Your lot claims to see the good in others when all the while you try to undermine and deceive—"

"Whoa, back up just a second!" Hermione threw up her hands, astounded and appalled by his testy outburst. His words were heated and dripping with contempt.

"All these years, you and the rest of your little trio have sought to sabotage me. Not that you would have ever succeeded, and there were many times I found your assumptions, not to mention your pathetic attempts at doing so, laughable. They were one of my few sources of entertainment, but nevertheless, you were _still_ imprudent enough to believe you could. The audacity! So, where is this newfound conscientiousness of yours coming from, Granger? And what abominably high self-confidence must a young witch like you possess to believe I'd take anything that comes out of that mouth of yours as sincere? You _really_ think you can outsmart _me?_ "

For a moment, Hermione could say nothing, only stare at his pale, contorted face, wide-eyed and completely baffled. It was the same sort of gut wrenching blow Hermione received not too long ago when she caught that glimpse of pain lurking behind the lonely wizard's eyes. It all seemed like a dream now in light of the rigid, raven irises that, at the moment, projected nothing but bitterness.

"My god..." Hermione breathed, drawing closer instead of further away. "You're paranoid. You really don't trust _anyone_ , do you?"

Snape evidently wasn't prepared for that, and certainly not from her. His countenance softened for a fleeting moment, a flash of his walls falling down around him, before he hastened them up again with a stiff upper lip.

"I've heard just about enough from you—"

"No! Just a minute! Why won't you answer me?"

Hermione hadn't given much thought until very recently just what kind of an isolated, dismal existence the man must live. For being such a social recluse, was it little wonder that he mistrusted and misjudged everything that came out of her mouth?

Hermione took several steps closer, no longer afraid, but Snape's walls were back up and in full force. "It is none of your business whether I trust people or not. And believe me, Granger, I have every justification for distrusting you."

"And in all fairness, I could say the same about you!" she exclaimed, desperate to find a way in. "You've never shown me _any_ visible indication to believe otherwise! Yet _I've_ been the one standing here since the very beginning of our sessions, trying to level with you and understand who you really are."

Severus snarled and ran his elegant fingers through his dark locks, clearly unraveled. " _Oh, please_."

"That's rich! I guess I've been wasting my bloody time then. How utterly stupid I was to think you capable of being _anything_ more than what I see!"

Snape rounded on her in a flash. He stalked over to where she stood and towered over her, his nose practically touching hers. Hermione could feel his warm, uneven breaths on her face. It made her angry eyes flutter, almost dazed by just how close he was.

"And, pray tell, Granger, _what do you see? What am I?_ "

In that moment, Hermione met his glare with equal distemper. "You're a bitter, miserable, unhappy man dead set on making everyone else's lives just as wretched as yours, simply because life hasn't dealt you the cards that you wanted!"

"Why you ignorant—"

"You obviously want to make some sort of connection with people, including me, but you're unwilling to communicate or even try. And then you have the nerve to insult me, the sole individual who's actually been trying to establish a connection with you! Why the hell I've even bothered this long is beyond me. You aren't worth it!"

"If you were any good at communication yourself, we wouldn't be standing here, and you'd be off pining for the ghastly ginger that verbally abuses and criticizes you for your intelligence!"

_Shit._

Snape flinched. He hadn't meant to blurt out such an observation, but it was too late.

Hermione blushed, mortified that her secrets were being unleashed by the very last person she would have ever expected. But more so than that, there was feeling behind his words, and that shocked her, too. "Wha - What? I'm not—"

"You're clever, but you're far too easy to read, Granger. I've told you that before."

"Well, you're not so competent yourself, Professor!"

Severus flashed, provoking her. " _Aren't I?_ "

"No! You hate everybody, you treat everyone around you like vermin, then you brush yourself off and walk away! You're vile, your actions are contemptible, and your behavior towards others makes me ill! And you're incapable of _any_ goodness, worthiness, or honor!"

Hermione's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach almost as soon as the words escaped her mouth. She hadn't meant to go that far; as a matter of fact, she hadn't meant a word of what she just said regarding the man's worthiness or honor, but they were now unleashed, and there was no going back.

Hermione anticipated another outburst in return, another row or another series of putdowns, but to her shock, nothing of the sort occurred. Snape stepped back, his lips woven tightly together. A muscle in his cheek twitched and the expression he gave her was another twisted, subtle hint of entangled slight and injury. Her guilty conscience reacted and she extended her arm towards him, but he recoiled, just as she feared he would.

"You're mistaken," he whispered, his voice hushed and pained. "You are wrong about my honor, Miss Granger... _Very wrong_."

Hermione wanted to say something, perhaps even apologize, but she lost the opportunity. Snape suddenly flinched and clasped his left arm, inhaling a sharp breath. A flicker of panic swept across his face and he hurried away from her, towards the staircase that led to his office.

"Professor!" Hermione called after him, but Snape was too fast.

"This discussion is over! Leave me be! _NOW!_ "

With that, he disappeared into his office and slammed the door, leaving Hermione trumped and bewildered in the middle of the abandoned classroom. She waited another minute or two, allowing the quarrel that had ensued to wash over her, before she regained a bit of composure and made a fleeting decision; one that, even in the heat of the moment, she suspected might cost her dearly.

Hermione sprang up the stone staircase and pounded on the door several times. When she received no answer, she tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked, and flung herself forward, only to be stumped again.

Severus Snape wasn't in his office. He was gone, and her opportunity to set things right was lost, along with the wounded wizard who had vanished without a trace.


End file.
